Loose Threads
by FFYP-det-Yagami
Summary: This is another another note. Supernatural gobbledegook, that slowly, slowly falls into AU... It's a little difficult to explain...
1. Page One

_Death Note, Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases._

_Otherwise known as... 'the difficult one'._

_It spawned the brilliantly maniacal Beyond Birthday, it (debatably) cleared up one of the myriad mysteries of Death Note, and it presented one of the most intensely complicated fictional murder cases ever written. It was genius, and yet..._

_It spawned terrible names such as Backyard Bottomslash and Quarter Queen, Mello acting as the narrator made it incredibly difficult to read sometimes, and ultimately the plot ended up asking more questions than it had solved._

_Why did B have shinigami eyes? Did L know who the killer was right from the beginning? And why does it appear that so many people believe B to be a jam-loving cannibal, even though he only ever eats jam once and never eats people at all?_

_... Okay, maybe it doesn't technically ask the last one. But you get the idea._

_This fic is born from the questions the novel has raised in my mind. _

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note, and Another Note, for that matter, are not legally owned by the author of this fic, which would just so happen to be me._

**Page One: Prologue**

Death, despite what _some_ writers may try to tempt you into believing, is not painless. People who have survived car crashes or being shot through the lung would, naturally, tell you that it hurt quite a bit. People that have _not_ survived these same situations would probably tell a similar tale – though, of course, they are rarely given the chance to do so.

Beyond Birthday was an expert in the field of dying.

So far, he had died twice.

His first death, he remembered, took place on August 22nd 2002. This was the death he had planned, and the one which had failed him miserably. Though his spirit may have passed away on this day, a miscalculation had left his body infuriatingly intact: charred, scarred and crippled beyond recognition, but still capable enough to keep him miserably tethered to his own existence.

His second death, however…


	2. Page Two

**Page Two: 21****st**** January, 2004**

B woke up.

Which was funny, because the last thing he could remember doing was dying.

A fatal cardiac arrest, just like all the other victims of Kira. He wasn't particularly surprised by this: having been following L's latest case intently, and having been a criminal himself, he knew that he would be on Kira's blacklist. Sooner or later, he knew that Kira would come for him.

What _had_ surprised him, however, was that he was still able to be surprised.

Fatal cardiac arrest… The key word being 'fatal'. Heart failure was always going to be bad news, but with the word 'fatal' being involved…

B felt an uncomfortable, and unfamiliar feeling – something he hadn't felt since the first time he realised that no one else could see The Numbers.

Confusion.

He was dead. He REMEMBERED dying. He had felt every nerve in his body freeze and wither, the eternal pumping of his heart grinding to a halt. He could even remember hearing his last breath shudder out of his body.

He. Had. Died.

And yet here he was, thinking about his own death. Lying here, just… thinking. Thinking, as he had always done. Like nothing really important had happened.

Was this the afterlife? Not that he had ever believed in such a thing – death was the end, no questions asked, no return ticket…

What was going on?

Where was he?

"…"

He sat up.

He looked around.

The room – or rather, the space: it was far too dark and vast a place for him to determine whether he was inside or outside – was desolate. There were no signs of life at all… only the pebbles and debris littering the ground below him provided any character to the pitch-black scenery. He had been lying on a large, smooth block – what looked to be an altar of some kind, but for what purpose, he couldn't tell…

It was like something from a horror movie. B couldn't help but smile.

In one swift movement, he hopped up and landed, crouched, on his feet. He surveyed the area once again.

Like something from a horror movie.

He had died.

He crouched in the darkness for a long time, grinning to himself, his pale eyes gazing lazily at the hazy world around him. His toes explored the soft contours of the cold stone, his fingers clenched and clawed about his knees.

He. Had. Died.

Was this supposed to be his reward? Or his punishment?

He didn't know.

HE DIDN'T KNOW.

…

"…I give up," he said, still smiling.

No one replied.

…

With the grace of a cat, he sprang off the altar and onto the floor. He was getting bored of waiting now… and seeing as he seemed to be stuck here for the moment, he supposed he had better get to know the place a little better. He would go for a walk, to pass the time.

A nice, long walk. That sounded fun – and after all, he had just died. It wasn't as though anyone was going to stop him.

B took a few steps. Miles of darkness seemed to stretch before him.

So he kept walking.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days.

Weeks. Months. Years.

Decades.

Millennia.

He walked on for what felt like eons – a tiny, ever-moving speck in a sea of black. Sometimes he would change direction, try to… trick the place, perhaps. There _had_ to be an exit – there had to be _something_… A room full of shadows was all well and good, but what was the point if there was nothing in it _but_ darkness?

…

And him, of course. He was there.

Alone.

…

He slumped to the floor, the smile finally fading from his face. His eyes slowly drifted shut.

He was here, alone.

The darkness swallowed him.

--

B woke up.

Which was funny, because he hadn't fallen asleep.

His eyelids flickered in slow-motion, and gradually, he opened them.

He was somewhere new.

A barren landscape surrounded him, with bones and rocks and craggy fissures breaking up the monotony of the scene. An expressionless, grey sky loomed high above, and in the distance, he could hear the sound of voices.

Voices meant people.

He scrabbled to his feet, and scuttled off in the direction the noises were coming from. As he drew closer, the hoarse voices became clearer.

"… talking about the human."

"Hmm?"

"Who'd want Ryuk for a pet? He ain't cute or nothin'."

"Kek, kek… You're right about that."

"So what kind of human is it? Male or female?"

"I dunno…"

Human. B wondered, exactly what kind of person would use the word 'human' like that? What manner of being? Confusion threatened to creep back into his mind, but he quickly brushed it aside. He couldn't be bothered with it at the moment, not with so many interesting things unfolding around him.

He crested a high, craggy ledge, and looked below him. There – in the ravine, below an arch that jutted unnaturally from the ground – the owners of the voices were gathered.

They were not people. At the very least, they were not human.

And they had no Numbers.

Which made things all the more interesting.

"Well, hello there, gentlemen," he called. "I was wondering if any of you could help me – I appear to be a little lost."

The things looked up at him. One of them (from this distance, it like a scorched, shrivelled insect) waved disinterestedly, and croaked, "What are ya doin' all the way up there? You want to talk to us, come down here. We got a game o' Go Fish goin' on."

That was a perfectly reasonable invitation. What nice things they were, B thought. He proceeded to lumber down the side of the rock face, and made his way towards them.

"Took you long enough to get down, didn't it?" said the thing, which didn't look much better closer up. "Kek, kek… Couldn't you have just flown down here?"

"Flown?" said B, absent-mindedly chewing his thumb. "How interesting… but though I am an individual of many talents, I don't believe I have mastered the ability to fly quite yet. This is probably due to my lack of wings, I would expect."

The thing shrugged. "Oh… Thought you looked like a newbie. What with lookin' like a human and all." It paused for a while, and sifted through the cards it held in its gnarled talons. Eventually, it added, "So, you wanna play Go Fish or what?"

Before B could answer and say that no, he would much prefer a nice, relaxing game of Old Maid, another thing – a grizzle-haired monstrosity with rotting, scaly skin – slapped the first thing grumpily. "Don't you remember nothin'? If he's new, he probably ain't seen the Old Man yet… and that means he probably doesn't have a book neither. He can't just sit around here, playin' cards with us. He can do that later."

"Might I… interject?" B said, the corners of his mouth curling upwards slightly.

The things looked blankly at him.

"Thank you," his smile broadened. "Now, somewhat irregularly for me, I'm a little… bemused. I have no idea of who you are referring to when you say 'Old Man', or what you mean when you start talking about me needing a book of some sort, and – frankly – all I can work out is that I've died, and somehow I ended up here. So, if you would be so kind, please tell me what the hell is going on here."

The same, serene smile lingered on his lips for a few moments before the things spoke again.

"… Well, you coulda just asked in the first place, kek, kek…"


	3. Page Three

**Page Three: 21****st**** January, 2004 (continued)**

Ever since he could remember, Beyond Birthday had been… different. Of course, he had been intelligent – a genius, in fact, which was one of the main reasons he arrived at Wammy's house – but that was only a tiny factor that separated him from the rest of the world.

His main difference lay in his eyes. He saw the world in a way that no one else could.

He saw the Numbers.

From the way they hovered so plainly above people's heads, just below their names, he had first assumed that everyone could see them. He couldn't begin to remember the amount of times he had asked his parents what the numbers above _his_ head were, and every time he did so, he was greeted with the same, worried little smile – the one he couldn't quite read back then…

It wasn't long until he found out what the numbers meant.

December 16th, 1989. Seventeen minutes and forty-six seconds past five o'clock in the evening. The father of Beyond Birthday was found in an alley, nine stab wounds, four hours later.

April 3rd, 1992. Fifty-three minutes and eight seconds past eleven o'clock at night. The body of Beyond Birthday's mother was never fully retrieved from the wreckage of the train.

It was… important to remember this kind of thing, he felt.

These two deaths had led him to a discovery, after all. A simple mathematical equation was all it took, and soon the mysterious numbers became not quite so mysterious. They simply became a means to an end… No pun intended.

The Numbers were a solution not only to _a_ question, but to THE question. The question that, unfortunately, nobody really wanted answering.

Which was fine by him. He didn't want to waste his talents on _other people_ anyway.

…

However, the Numbers didn't only provide an answer…

They raised questions in B's mind.

Why him? How could he be the only one? What made him so different?

Was this supposed to be his reward? Or his punishment?

For years, he had believed there were no answers to these questions.

--

B chewed his thumb.

"So, you want to know what's goin' on, huh?" said the thing in front of him. "Alright, seeing as you're new, I guess I really should tell you. But you'd better promise not to flip out or anything like that. Can't stand people overreacting to things..."

"I promise not to flip out or anything like that," B repeated.

"Okay then, kek, kek... Well, first things first, I'd like to make a little wager with ya. I bet you anythin' – anythin' in the world – that I know somethin' about you that nobody on Earth knows."

Silence.

"You're not much fun, are ya? Fine..." the thing grumbled. "I was talkin' about your eyes. You see people's names and lifespans just about their heads when you look at 'em, I bet."

Still, silence. The only sounds were of shuffling cards and the occasional slurp as B assaulted the tip of his thumb between his teeth.

"... You know how I know that?"

"No," said B, much to everyone's surprise. "Please tell me."

"Man, he's one creepy guy when he wants to be. He's gonna fit in here just fine," said the thing with the hair, a crooked smile coming to his cracked lips.

"... Okay, okay. Well, the reason I knew that was 'cause you're here, right?" said the first thing. "Only people with eyes like yours end up here."

B slowly looked around. "And here is... where?"

"A long way from home, let me tell you that," the thing said, smirking. "This here is the Shinigami realm, and you'd better get to likin' it, 'cause you're gonna be here for a long time, kek, kek..."

It didn't take long for him to make a hypothesis. Beyond Birthday had always been a quick worker.

"So, what you're saying is," he said, still biting into the flesh of his thumb, "that because I was born with the ability to see human's names and lifespan, I was somehow 'destined' to arrive in the Shinigami realm after my death and stay here for the rest of eternity. Which would mean," his gaze, which had been lazily exploring the landscape thus far, snapped directly onto the thing in front of him, "that you are a Shinigami, and – perhaps – that I have the potential to become one too. Am I correct?"

"Geez, don't stare at me like again, okay? You're right, I'm a Shinigami, and because of... something, I don't know, you should probably talk to the Old Man if you wanna know that... well, anyway, because you were born with the Shinigami eyes, you're gonna be a Shinigami too." Evidently the thing – the Shinigami – wasn't particularly interested in how B had managed to work all of this out.

Such wasted potential, B thought. Assuming that he was, indeed, going to become a Shinigami…

There was going to be some serious changes made around here.

A smile spread across his face. "So… this Old Man you mentioned. That would be…?"

"The big cheese 'round here," it replied. "The King of the Shinigami."

"As I thought."

A pause, and then…

"One of you will take me to meet him."

Shadows lengthened as the Shinigami stared incredulously at him. He hadn't even been dead for a whole day yet, and still he was acting like he owned the place…

…

The dull clack of skeletal feet could be heard in the distance. As the silence dragged on, Beyond found himself more and more preoccupied with the unknown thing approaching.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

A miserable looking creature appeared over the horizon: A snow-white, spiky beast, lumbering and hunched in a most unflattering way. Even from such a distance, B could feel the icy indifference in its stare.

Very much like someone else he knew very well…

"You," he called, pointing straight out at the thing. "You will take me to the king – I imagine you'll prove to be far more use than these… gentlemen."

The white Shinigami took a few more steps, cocked its head, and sent its gaze boring through B's skull.

Invisible sparks.

"Fine," it said. "I've got nothing better to do."

Abandoning his new 'friends', he slouched his way over to the wretched thing and, playfully, linked arms with it.

"This will be fun," he grinned. "You can be Toto, and I'll be Dorothy."

"I'd rather be Rem, and you be whoever you are… but I really don't care either way," the Shinigami grumbled. "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay then, Toto. Lead the way to the Emerald City."

"…"

--

**Author's Note:** _So... that's the basic concept. I just had to post this because, frankly, it would have eaten my brain if I hadn't._

_What does everyone think? Good idea, bad idea? I'm just curious about whether anyone thinks that this could go anywhere, and whether I've done the story justice so far._

_Erm..._

_Well, that's pretty much all I have to say..._


	4. Page Four

_Gah. I've been trying to write for the past week and a half, but I either don't seem to have the time or the inspiration..._

_Thankfully, I managed to hammer this one down in the short period of time where I had both. Okay, so technically not much happens in it, but then again - not much is happening in this story yet anyway. That is to say, I haven't really got to the plot yet._

_Curse my need to establish the scene correctly._

_Disclaimer: Death Note and Another Note are, quite simply, not in my legal possession._

_--_

**Page Four: 21****st**** January, 2004 (continued)**

"So," said Beyond.

"…"

"This king of yours. Could you tell me what he's like?"

"… Not much to tell, really," Rem grumbled. "Most of us don't really see him all that much, anyway."

B chewed a finger interestedly. "Oh… I see. Tell me then – how does he run the place then? Is he a good king?"

"… You're very talkative."

"I'm very quiet when I don't need questions answered."

She groaned. "Fine…"

"So?" said Beyond.

"I really couldn't tell you whether he's a good king or not, because… he's the only one this place has ever had. I guess that…"

"Excuse me," Beyond raised his hand, "but I became a Shinigami by having the 'Shinigami eyes' whilst I was living as a human, correct?"

"Because you were born with the Eyes, yes."

"Would I be correct in assuming, therefore, that the method in which _I_ became a Shinigami is also the method in which everyone else here became one as well?"

"Everyone except the Old Man, to my knowledge," said Rem. "But wh…"

"Then _how_," B stopped and frowned, folding his arms awkwardly, "can you not tell me whether he was a good king or not? If you were a human once – and you have just admitted that you were – then wouldn't you have experienced at least _one_ other king, or queen, or government, or… any other type of public governmental system?"

"… That was over two thousand years ago," she shrugged. "And though _I_ have been around that long, my memory doesn't go back that far."

"That's… acceptable. For the average person," he said, spitting out the word 'average' with the utmost contempt, "… I guess that it would only be natural to forget things after such a long period of time. Especially," he added, "if it was something as trivial as their own life. Please, continue."

Rem opened her mouth, closed it again, the opened it once more. "… What was the question?"

"As I said, _perfectly_ acceptable for an average person, forgetting things…"

She cast him an icy glare. He liked that sort of look – he felt at home when people looked at him like that.

"Okay," he said. "You were about to tell me how the King runs the Shinigami Realm."

"Mm," Rem sneered, not looking grateful at all for his assistance. "… Well, it's not run _badly_. It's just… not… really… run at all. The Old Man keeps out of our way, and we keep out of his. We just obey the rules, and get on with…" she thought for a moment, and her face fell, "… we get on with… whatever we can find to do."

"So," said Beyond, "what you're saying is that the Shinigami King is an arrogant, all-powerful ruler who indulges only himself and expects everyone else to obey the rules, though _he_ doesn't have to, because he considers himself above all of that. You're also saying that he isn't interested in any of his underlings, despite the fact that – actually – they are the ones that keep him in such a secure and comfortable position. Correct?"

"Pretty much," said Rem.

B smirked to himself. It wasn't all that different from Wammy's House, then.

"Have we much farther to go before we arrive at His Majesty's place of residence?" he asked.

"Yes. Now will you shut up?"

"… For the moment."

And the pair kept walking.

--

In a galaxy far, far away…

"Watari. Have you got any good news for us?"

The old man shook his head. "More deaths, I'm afraid." There was something strange about the way he spoke… Something unusual. It almost sounded as though he was…

"Is something the matter, Watari?"

"… No. No, I suppose nothing's _really_ the matter. At any rate, I shouldn't let emotions get in the way of work. We _are_, after all, looking for…"

"What is the matter?"

There was silence.

"One of the criminals who died. It was…" He handed over the printout.

L looked down the list.

Birthday, Beyond: heart attack.

"Oh," he said. "I see."

--

The Castle of the Shinigami King. Possibly the only part of the Shinigami Realm that was in any way grand, or even presentable. The man was obviously the self-important, self-indulgent type… just as B had predicted.

Spindly turrets spiralled and stretched high into the grey sky. Rough, dark chains hung from every wall and battlement, and central tower loomed through the web of pillars and bridges that encircled it, rumbling and swaying unnaturally, like a living, breathing mountain. The whole structure of the building seemed to be bursting out of the ground – in fact, it was probably safe to assume (considering the rest of the Shinigami Realm) that it actually _had_. It was a monstrosity, to be sure, but it was a proud, majestic, _respectable_ monstrosity.

Rem led Beyond across the main bridge and up to the portcullis, which writhed and squirmed like a net of snakes as they approached. As they stopped, mere inches from it, the bars gave a final spasm and reformed themselves liquidly, rolling and coiling and stretching until – at last – there was no evidence of a portcullis ever being there. Instead, a wall of metal oozed around a circular opening just large enough to let the pair of them through.

Beyond gave this very little attention and, instead, nudged his travelling companion. "So… Toto. Will this be goodbye, or are you coming in with me?"

"Well, to be honest, I really don't care," she mumbled. "I haven't got much else to do, besides check in on Gelus…"

"Gelus?"

There was no response.

"So are you coming in with me?"

Rem gave a withering glance. "… Do you really need me to hold your hand all the time, or are you just trying to toy with me?"

"At this moment in time…" B mused. "Can I say both?"

"No."

He considered his answer for a few moments more. There really wasn't anything to be gained from lying to her… "The second one, then."

She nodded. "You'll make a good Shinigami."

"So? Are you coming in with me or not?"

Rem weighed up her options. "… Oh, what the hell – yes, I'll go in with you. I might as well waste my time doing something at least _vaguely_ interesting."

"Good," said Beyond.

--

_**Author's Note:** Good? Bad? Really bad? Pointless? If you'd like to tell me what you think about it, I think there's a green button around here that you can click..._


	5. Page Five

_Can't think of an amusing author's note, so..._

_DISCLAIMER: Beyond Birthday and all his little friends... are not mine._

_--_

**Page Five: 21****st**** January, 2004 (continued)**

It was like something out of a horror movie. Even H.R. Giger would blanch just by looking at the place. The walls pulsed and squirmed, the floor lurched under their feet, and every once in a while a window blinked shut with a dull, cold splat.

If felt very much like walking through someone's intestines, Beyond thought.

What a pleasant day it had been so far.

"How much farther until we reach the king?" he asked, watching interestedly as a bubble in the wall burst and leaked orange pus.

"It's not far," grumbled Rem, "though it's been a while since I've been here, so I could be wrong. We might not even be going the right way."

"That's comforting to hear," said B.

"Shut up," said Rem.

He sniffed. "Fine. But it's rather antisocial of you to tell me to 'shut up', as you so nimbly put it. Anyone listening in would think we weren't friends."

"We're not friends," Rem said, flatly. "You just started following me, and I couldn't be bothered to tell you to stop it."

"And now _you're_ following _me_," B replied. "And I'm not telling you to go away either. I believe that mutually agreeing to spend time with one another would constitute friendship, wouldn't it?"

"Humans in politics spend all day in the same room as people they hate. Does _that_ constitute as friendship?"

Beyond nibbled the end of his finger. "Touche."

They continued their journey, once again, in silence.

…

Something about the Shinigami realm had struck B quite quickly. Even though he hadn't been here for very long, he had noticed that the similarities the surroundings had to the human world were purely superficial: what _looked_ like an everyday length of chain certainly didn't feel or act like one; what _looked_ like a few miles could be traversed in only a few steps…

The mortal measurement of time, weight, and distance were irrelevant here. Things could only truly begin to make sense if worked out with Shinigami measurements, and whilst he had had something of a head start by already knowing the system with the Numbers, even B had to admit –

It was… awkward to adjust to. Not uncomfortable: just strange, in the same way as one feels when changing currency to spend in a different country, or finding out where someone else keeps their shoes. An interesting kind of awkward.

Taking the castle as an example: from the outside, it looked to be made of stone, and seemed colossal. Any rational consideration of the place would lead you to the conclusion that it would take several days to fully explore the interior.

However, judging from the directions Rem had been taking, and by the views he had seen through the various pulsating windows they had passed…

They had easily covered a quarter of the grounds in (what felt like) thirty minutes.

Something interesting, for future reference.

His main concern at the moment was finding the King, and getting all the information he needed.

--

His main concern at the moment was finding Kira, and putting a stop to the murders.

--

His main concern at the moment was to cleanse the world of evil, by any means necessary…

--

"Here we are," said Rem, pointing at a rather grotesque door at the end of the corridor. "The Old Man will be just through there."

"That was quick," Beyond smirked. "So, are you coming in with me?"

She shook her head. "Knowing _him_," she nodded in the direction of the door, "he'd probably say that I was interfering, and execute me for some reason or other. I think I'll pass."

"Will you wait outside for me? I promise I won't take long."

"You're hardly in a position to promise that. He's the one that makes the rules around here."

"Oh," said B. "So… Will you wait outside for me?"

"Mm. I've got nothing better to do," Rem shrugged.

"How kind of you, Toto."

"Shut up," she replied.

"You really like saying that, don't you?"

"No. I'd rather I didn't have to say it at all, but I guess that would be expecting too much of you."

"Too much!" B laughed as his fingers grasped the handle on the door. "That's a first – everyone else I've talked to don't expect _enough_ from me."

He slipped into the next room.

The darkness swallowed him.

--

He was back in the black space.

This time, however, he was certainly not alone.

Before him, as far as the eye could see, the glistening, twisted mess that was the Shinigami King sat. Hundreds of the Old Man's pale eyes settled upon B, and somewhere in amongst the tangle of sinew and tendrils, a single mouth squirmed into a cruel smile.

"AH," it boomed, none of its mouths moving an inch, "A NEWBIE. HERE FOR A LITTLE CHAT, ARE WE?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Beyond.

"OH, _WONDERFUL_. YOU KNOW, I REALLY HATE DOING THIS CRAP – TALKING TO A PROPER SHINIGAMI IS BAD ENOUGH, BUT TALKING TO SOMEONE WHO'S BASICALLY A DEAD HUMAN WITH SOME FUCKED UP EYES… THIS REALLY, _REALLY_ SUCKS."

"Well," Beyond rolled his eyes, "I suppose you'd better hurry up and get it over with. I wouldn't want to take up too much of your time. This is only the rest of my existence we're going to talk about."

"YOU KNOW, I REALLY DON'T HAVE TO DO ANY OF THIS," said the King, ignoring him completely. "I'M THE _KING_. I'M THE ONE WHO MAKES THE DAMN RULES AROUND HERE – NOT ANYONE ELSE. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO DO _ANYTHING_ IF I DON'T WANT TO. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I _REALLY_ DON'T WANT TO TALK TO SOME LITTLE NOBODY WHO'S GOING TO ASK STUPID THINGS LIKE 'WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I START CHANGING?' OR 'HOW DO I USE THIS DEATH NOTE THING THEN?'. I MEAN, I GAVE JUSTIN THOSE RULES FOR A GOOD REASON – SO PEOPLE WOULD STOP PESTERING THE HELL OUT OF ME… BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER, DOES IT? NO, NOBODY AROUND HERE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT WHAT _I_ WANT, THE SELFISH LITTLE –"

B coughed.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"Excuse me, my hearing must be failing me – death has a tendency to do that to your senses… I was wondering, did you say… 'Death Note'?"

The King stared. No matter the face, whether it was human or a massive blob of writhing, squirming things, it was simple to tell when someone was staring at you like you were something they had just picked out of their ear. "_YES_," He said, in a vaguely offended tone.

"Could you elaborate?" said B. He was chewing his thumb quite forcefully.

"… SEE? THIS IS WHY I DON'T LIKE TALKING TO NEWBIES. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A DEATH NOTE IS. I MEAN, THERE'S STUPID, AND THEN THERE'S _STUPID_."

B narrowed his eyes. "Answer the question, please."

The King sighed. "FI-I-INE. IF IT'LL STOP YOU YAPPING, AND GET ALL THIS OVER WITH, I'LL EXPLAIN. ALRIGHT, WELL, THE DEATH NOTE IS A BOOK I MADE. WHAT YOU DO IS, AFTER I'VE GIVEN YOU YOUR OWN TO KEEP, YOU GO AND LOOK DOWN TO THE HUMAN WORLD AND FIND A HUMAN THAT YOU WANT TO KILL. THEN YOU WRITE THEIR NAME DOWN, AND THEY DIE, AND YOU GET THE REMAINING LIFESPAN YOU TOOK AWAY FROM THEM. IT'S PRETTY SIMPLE."

… Evidently, the Old Man wasn't used to explaining things clearly. No wonder the other Shinigami didn't seem to have a clue…

"So, you're telling me that I will be given a book to kill people with. And that, with this book, I will be able to kill people that haven't reached the end of their lifespan – and in the process, I will gain the life that I have taken from them?" B asked.

"WELL DUH."

"And this book… this Death Note… If you write someone's name down in it, they die," B mused aloud. "… Does this mean that the person will die in the most convenient way possible, or do you have to specify within the book how you want them to die?"

"… YOU CAN SPECIFY IF YOU _WANT_ TO, BUT IF YOU JUST WANT TO WRITE THEIR NAME DOWN AND NOTHING ELSE, THEY DIE OF A HEART ATTACK. EASIEST WAY AROUND IT, REALLY."

…

A notebook that kills people.

By heart attack.

Beyond's mind began to whirr.

Of course, it couldn't be coincidence. Kira, and the Death Note…

Was Kira a Shinigami, perhaps? It would have to be a very proactive, very stupid one…

… And whilst he was sure it would be easy to find a Shinigami _stupid_ enough…

… It couldn't be one of them. Kira was working towards _human_ goals, and was limited by _human_ means, even if he did have a superhuman power. Any idiot that watched the news should be able to tell that…

… So…

"Excuse me once again, King, but… I was wondering something."

"OH, GO ON THEN, WHAT IS IT?"

B licked his lips, and carefully formed the words in his mouth. "Has a Death Note ever found its way down to the human world?"

"AS A MATTER OF FACT –"

The rest of the King's words fell away into the darkness.

He had solved the Kira case.

Beyond Birthday had beaten L.

--

_**Author's Note:** And here is where things start working. I'm glad to say that the plot is only a few words away..._

_(I just hope I haven't offended any die-hard L fans by making B beat him at his own game...)_

_Thoughts? Queries? Comments? I'd appreciate them, if you feel the need to share._


	6. Page Six

_Beyond Birthday has won. __L has unknowingly lost. Somewhere in the middle of this, Kira is probably giggling mindlessly to himself._

_To me, this sounds like the end of the world. Or at least the end of all rationality._

_But enough about me. You're here to read Page Six of Loose Threads (or at least I hope you are, otherwise you're in the wrong place), and that's exactly what I'm going to let you do._

_So, please - read on._

_DISCLAIMER: L, B, Rem, Death Notes and the oh-so familiar treacle-like coffee are not mine. No matter how much I wish for it to be otherwise._

_--_

**Page Six: 21****st**** January, 2004 (continued)**

L took a sip of something that looked like black treacle, tasted like syrup, and was really supposed to be coffee.

The Task Force were useless. He knew that, Watari knew that, and half of the Task Force knew that. The real reason he had decided to meet them was because he needed to keep any support he had near to him. They were there because, worryingly, L needed people for this. He needed to know that he could call on _someone_… and, more than anything, he needed to keep an eye on the NPA.

Because – and he hated to admit this, even to himself – he was losing.

A criminal that takes a moral stand… A criminal that raises questions…

If the question is big enough, they stop being criminals, and become much more.

A threat.

A vigilante.

And after a while… a pioneer.

Kira wasn't just a threat to people's lives. He was a threat to _everything_, no matter how apparently 'moral' his motives were.

He needed to be caught.

And L needed… a clue.

--

Beyond turned the Death Note in his hands. Though the King had _claimed_ it was new, the pages were dog-eared and the red cover seemed to be slightly faded. He flipped it open, thumbed through a couple of pages, and closed it again.

"So. Rem."

"What?" Rem grumbled.

"Why do _I_ have a red Death Note, and you have a black one?"

"How should I know?"

B folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Come on, Toto. You've been here much longer than I have, and you _promised_ to help answer any questions I have."

"I didn't promise anything," said Rem.

"Oh. So you did. I mean, didn't," said B, smiling. "Still, it's only _one_ little question. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt you to explain…"

"I told you, I don't know. All I know is that sometimes the Old Man hands out red Death Notes, and sometimes hands out white Death Notes – but most of the time it's just the regular old black Death Note. He's never explained why he does that," Rem shrugged dismissively. "I guess he might just get a little bored with handing out the same old colour every time."

"Ah. So he doesn't hand out red Death Notes that often, then?"

"That's what I said."

B looked at the book again in triumph. "Evidently I'm a special case."

"I'll give you that," said Rem, smiling a rare, lopsided smirk at nothing in particular as she did so.

If this were any other day, and any other time, Beyond Birthday might have made a snide remark at this. However, it wasn't just any other day…

He had died. And, just as he had predicted, all those years ago, his death would mark his victory over L. He had solved the Kira case – B had surpassed L…

He felt a little ill. It was difficult to tell whether he wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. Ever since he had been taken to Wammy's House, it had been Beyond's mission to try and match L – or better. He had tried so hard, for so long, and at every turn he had been overshadowed. As much as he _tried_ to beat L, he could never quite manage it. Even when he resorted to murdering, he had strived to defeat L, expose his weaknesses…

He had always failed. Always.

And why had he always failed? Because L was always one step ahead. Not just one step ahead of B, or one step ahead of the criminals – he was one step ahead of the world. Over the many years he had spent trying to defeat L, he had almost started to believe that it was an impossible goal. L had somehow managed to transcend the flaws inherent to humanity, he was…

… peerless. Perfection personified. And no matter how much Beyond wanted to overthrow him, he knew that, sooner or later, he would have to face up to the fact that he would only ever be able to admire L from a distance. They could never be equals, because L was the hero, and he… was the backup.

… At least, this was what he believed until now.

Now, he was trying to work out where everything went wrong. He had done it, he had actually _beaten_ L… He had gone one step further than his hero, and now…

Who did he have to beat?

What did he have to do?

As the eternal existence of the Shinigami stretched before him, things had unfortunately started working in his favour. In the space of a day, he had completed everything he had ever worked for in life… And now he was facing millennia of boredom.

What could he do?

Flipping the Death Note open once again, he peered interestedly at the blank pages. "The King was a little sketchy about the rules," he said. "He explained that the Death Note is the means by which Shinigami kill humans and, conversely, preserve their own existence… but other than that, he left me in the dark. He did mention a 'Justin' character, but I'm not quite sure what he meant…" his voice trailed off hopefully, his eyes rolling towards Rem as a supposedly pleasant grin spread across his face once more.

"Armonia Justin Beyondormason. Shinigami rank two, grumpy as hell, looks as though he's surgically attached to his seat. He's the one the Old Man entrusted with the scrolls that state all the rules of the Death Note," said Rem.

"Be… Beyondormason. Hmm…" B mused. "And where might I find this extremely well-named man?"

"That almost sounded like you were planning on looking for him on your own…" Rem mumbled, with just a hint of vain hope in the tone of her voice. "Do you want me to give you directions?"

"Yes, I would. That is, unless you would rather take me to meet him personally…"

"Seeing as I'm getting sick of the sound of your voice, I don't think that would be a particularly good idea," she said.

"I'm glad to see you're such a good friend, not wanting to sour our positive experience of one another by getting angry in front of me," said B, and without warning wrapped his arms awkwardly around the skeletal creature. "And I wouldn't worry about me if I were you, Toto. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and suchlike… You haven't seen the last of me."

"Oh, joys," said Rem, flatly. "Now do you want the damn directions or not?"

"So eager to help me, too. You're so good to me…"

"Shut up. Just… shut up."

--

Alone again.

Beyond Birthday, alone against the elements, with only a makeshift map made out of notepaper to guide him through the desolate wastelands of the Shinigami realm.

It sounded like something from a Western. At any moment, B expected John Wayne to come galloping along, charging off into the sunset.

… Or at least charging off into the mist on the horizon, as the sun didn't appear to rise at all around here. The sky merely seemed to be a perpetual swirl of grey, as though a huge cloud covered the whole expanse above him. He had no idea how long he had been in the Shinigami Realm, but regardless, he hadn't noticed any change in the brightness of the sky. _Perhaps_, he thought, _the sky doesn't change at all. Shinigami probably don't need to sleep, and maybe their world reflects that…_

A slightly gloomy idea, he noted. Experiencing weather as mundane as this for the rest of eternity would be enough to turn anyone mad.

He smiled to himself.

It was a good job that he was perfectly insane already, then.

And it was even better that he wasn't planning on spending much time in this place.

He had thought about it for a long time, and – logically – there was only one course of action he could take… In the Shinigami realm, there was nothing for him. Sure, it had provided him with a means to surpass L, but what use was there in winning without other people knowing of his victory? If L was oblivious of B's triumphs, then what was the point?

… He knew, he needed to tell someone. He needed to tell L. It wasn't a case of merely wanting to – if he didn't say that he had solved the Kira case first, then there would be no justice in the matter. It would be as if he hadn't done anything at all…

… And he wasn't about to let that happen. In life, Beyond Birthday may have lived in the shadow of L – but in death, B was the victor.

He would completely defeat L. He would wreak revenge on Kira. And for once in his entire existence, his _own_ kind of brilliance would be realised.

But first, he needed to find this Beyondormason fellow, the Shinigami who owned the rules of the Death Note. B wasn't about to rush things – after all, he had all the time in the world to play with, and weigh up his options.

Kira needed to be caught.

L needed to be taught a lesson.

And B just needed… a plan.

--

**Author's Note:** _The pacing's a little off here, which is... bad. Bad, because of what I have planned for the next chapter, which might confuse people. So I ask you, oh faithful reader, what do you think of it? And - perhaps most interestingly - does anyone have any ideas what his plan might entail? I just want to be able to compare..._


	7. Page Seven

_Back by what appears to be popular demand!_

_Probably the creepiest chapter of Loose Threads I've ever written!_

_Let's get on with it!_

_DISCLAIMER: No, really, none of this stuff is originally mine._

_--_

**Page Seven: 24****th**** January, 2004**

"Mello," said Near, despondently. "You're hurting me. Stop it."

The blond-haired boy sneered, and loosened the grip on his shoulders. "I was only _asking_ whether you'd seen any spark plugs lying around," Mello grumbled, "and you didn't answer. You just kept on playing with your stupid toys."

Near narrowed his eyes. "I hadn't seen any spark plugs. If I had, I would have told you – but I didn't, so I didn't feel the need to respond. I thought you would have been able to figure that out."

"I just thought you hadn't heard me."

"… My hearing is perfectly fine, you know that. Saying that you didn't think I had heard you isn't any kind of an excuse."

Mello clenched his hands into fists. "I was only looking for some spark plugs. You could have at least been decent enough to respond."

"I couldn't think of anything important that I needed to say."

"It doesn't NEED to be _important_," Mello seethed. "All you needed to _do_ was say 'Sorry, Mello, I haven't seen any spark plugs'."

"Why," said Near, "would I need to apologise for not having seen spark plugs? Wouldn't it make more sense for you to apologise for interrupting me?"

"You were only playing with some action figures! It's hardly like _that's_ important!"

"I doubt you're going to do anything very important with those spark plugs when you find them. What are you going to use them for, anyway?"

They stared at each other for a while, until Mello broke his gaze. "Look, I don't even care any more, okay?" he said, throwing his hands up in complete abandonment. "Screw you, Near. I really just don't care."

He stormed off.

And Near returned to his toys.

Just another day in Wammy's House.

--

Wammy's House.

An orphanage founded by the inventor Quillsh Wammy in 1961. Originally, he had intended it to be just like any other orphanage…

… until he encountered one remarkably intelligent boy who changed everything.

L Lawliet.

Ever since his first encounter with the boy, Quillsh Wammy's life turned upside down – and gradually, as time inched by, his motivations changed. What had once been a brilliant child soon became a highly accomplished detective – the _best_ detective, no less. Primarily as a man of science, Quillsh knew that he should nurture the boy's talents, and so aided L in whatever way he could. Using his vast fortune and his links within the international police, Quillsh Wammy became Watari, the mediator between the detective L and the outside world. L's abilities flourished.

So too did concerns within Quillsh's mind – not concerns about the child's wellbeing, but the wellbeing of the world: L's detective feats were so astounding, such a positive effect on the world…

… It was a travesty to think that, one day, L wouldn't be able to protect the public.

Then a new idea struck him.

…

The first child intended to follow in the footsteps of L was A, which stood for 'Assistance'. He was intelligent, talented, and showed a lot of promise as the brilliant detective's successor… but, ultimately, he lacked the willpower. His consequent suicide wasn't entirely surprising, but came as something of a blow.

The second… was B. Backup. In truth, he surpassed A in every aspect: he was frighteningly clever, and possessed a certain zeal for work that couldn't quite be defined. Quick to learn new things, difficult to figure out, and highly ambitious…

… Perhaps _too_ ambitious.

Another failure in the eyes of Wammy's House.

After the departure of B, Quillsh's attempts at acquiring an heir for L became a little more frantic. More and more children found their way into the orphanage, each one of them chosen for the same purpose – to become the next great detective.

All of them failed.

And more came.

A vicious circle.

Wammy's House.

--

Far away from the hubbub of Earth…

Beyond Birthday was sitting.

"So," he said, nudging the Shinigami next to him, and nodding in the direction of the dome in front of them. "Is there anything else on? I'm getting bored of watching this channel."

Gelus gave a non-committal grunt, and shifted his feet a little.

The last few days had been… interesting. Mainly, B had experienced them from behind a very long scroll, reading his recently 'acquired' rules of the Death Note. However, on the rare occasion that he felt it necessary to take a break, he had spent his time with his good friend Toto, and consequently had met a new friend along the way: Gelus, a rather uninspiring little lump of a Shinigami who seemed to be only interested in one thing – ogling a pretty young lady from the human realm.

With the three of them together so often, it was almost as though B had found himself a new family. What a pity that he was going to leave so soon…

"Stop bugging Gelus, Beyond," called Rem's voice from behind them. "If he wants to look at her, let him look."

"Mm," said Gelus. "Thank… you, Rem…"

"I'm dreadfully sorry. But you know me," B smiled – or at the very least bared his teeth, "I'm getting a little anxious. I haven't tried out this Death Note of mine yet, and I do so want to see how it works."

"Then go and use one of the other holes to look for someone to kill."

"Oh, but Toto… Don't you think it would be nice if we shared the experience?" B's eyes widened, in an attempt to look as piteous as possible. "I _am_ your protégé, after all."

"No, you're not. You're just a weird guy who feels the need to hang around me and pester me all the time," said Rem.

"And your point is… ?"

"My point is that I really couldn't care less about you writing your first name."

B sighed, and got to his feet. "Fine. I shall go and find another hole."

It wouldn't be too difficult for him to do. As per usual, the place was deserted – he had learned after only his first day or so that Shinigami had a tendency to avoid anywhere that might imply any amount of exertion on their part unless it was absolutely necessary to do so – and seeing as most of the Shinigami only used the holes to find people to kill, here was no exception.

Beyond Birthday found a nearby dome and looked into it.

The principles of using a hole was simple. As long as the hole was not being utilised by another Shinigami, the individual merely had to think of a place – or a person – within the human realm, and the hole would show it. Unfortunately, this meant that B would be unable to find out the identity of Kira from using one of these, but there were still… certain advantages…

As his mind wandered, the image of a hotel room faded into view. He made a quick scan of the individuals within the room, and instinctively his eyes settled on the pale young man with dark hair…

L Lawliet.

4, 25, 7, 13, 9, 5.

A detective. A mastermind.

Currently demolishing a bowl of raspberry sorbet.

And, B noticed with relish, he was obviously still working fervently on the Kira case.

Poor, poor L.

He grinned. Soon enough, L wouldn't have to worry about catching Kira at all…

... But before that, there was work to be done. B needed to kill someone.

According to the rules, a Shinigami's lifespan depends entirely on the amount of life they 'remove' from human victims by means of a Death Note: if a Shinigami was to kill a person who still had twenty years to live, the Shinigami would be able to live for twenty years longer. So far, B had been surviving off a preliminary lifespan bestowed to him by the Shinigami King the moment he was newly 'born' as a god of death…

… And as the preliminary lifespan gave him enough time to survive roughly 162 hours of human time (about a week), he figured that it would be wise to make his first kill as soon as possible.

Because of this, the victim was relatively unimportant. So long as they filled certain requirements, it didn't matter who or where they were. This was merely the practice run – it was the _second_ death that was truly integral to his plan.

He chose a place at random: a small town in Argentina.

He inspected each occupant's lifespan.

He found a suitable victim.

And he opened his Death Note.

Using his fresh, unused, and frankly disgusting-looking Shinigami writing implement, he wrote down the details.

_Paolo Santiego._

_Dies at 11:37 a.m. on 24__th__ January, 2004, after falling down stairs and breaking his neck._

Beyond watched intently.

Paolo Santiego was a patient at a general hospital. Judging from his gaunt appearance and the other people within his ward, it was simple to see that he wasn't in a particularly good state of health – B wouldn't have needed to see his lifespan to know that Paolo wasn't expected to leave the hospital in anything other than a coffin…

… but of course he could see Paolo's lifespan. And consequently, he knew that the man had just over nine days to live.

Nine-and-a-quarter days. It seemed sufficient.

The dying man strolled the corridors slowly and stumbled, quite by chance, over the top step of the stairs.

B nodded to himself, an unreadable expression etched onto his face. It seemed sufficient.

Victim number one. The trial run was over.

Now, it was time for victim number two.

The hole flickered, and the ghoulish scene in the hospital faded away. In its place rose a familiar scene.

Europe.

Great Britain.

England.

Winchester.

Wammy's House.

A vicious circle indeed.

--

**Author's Note:** _I tried to balance out the comedy with creepiness this time, and I really do hope I've succeeded. If just one person out there, is thinking, "Oh dear, who's B going to get next?!", then I've done my job._

_Again, comments would really be welcomed for this. It's about now where I'm really looking forward to writing the next part, and at the same time I'm concerned about whether everyone else thinks the story's going okay._

_Not wanting to leave this on too much of a cliffhanger, and because B is so easy to write at the moment, the next chapter should be up pretty darn soon._


	8. Page Eight

_My, you've all been awfully patient. There's B, holding a Death Note, looking down at Wammy's House..._

_... And I've left posting for about a week. If that isn't cruelty, I don't know what is._

_So. Wait no longer. In only a few paragraphs, B's victim will be revealed. The secret will be out and... most importantly... the story will officially begin._

_A head's up for everyone: crying and general upset is imminent. This is, after all, one of B's plans..._

_DISCLAIMER: Hey, I found this series called Death Note. It's not mine though - is it yours, maybe?_

_--_

**Page Eight: 24th January, 2004 (Continued)**

B held the pen, poised above the notebook.

Wammy's House lay below him.

It was interesting for him to watch them: all the children milling around, playing and learning and – in some rare cases – even laughing; all the staff working hard, filling in forms and helping out in whatever way they could.

In some ways, he felt proud. He felt proud to have been a part of such a monumental scheme, to have played his role in preserving the legacy of L. In one small way, he thought, he had helped with something truly great.

On another hand, he had been used. As soon as he had arrived at Wammy's House, he had been forgotten. He wasn't Beyond Birthday any more – he was an heir to a name. In a short space of time, his very existence and purpose for being was destroyed…

Because of L, and because of Wammy's House, he had been destined to be nothing but a wannabe. He had skills and talents that very few other people had ever naturally possessed, and an intellect so great that he could have been anything...

… But instead, he was forever overshadowed.

It was always L Lawliet, never Beyond Birthday.

B didn't matter.

… That is, until now. Now, he could show the world who was the best… and L wouldn't get in the way.

He wrote down a name.

The wheels were in motion. There was no turning back now. Sooner or later, Beyond Birthday would catch Kira, and beat L.

He counted the seconds roll by in anticipation.

After forty seconds of waiting, Roger Ruvie fell to the floor.

A heart attack.

It had begun.

--

"Now, Mello. What have I told you about being rough with the other children?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "I _know_. 'Some of the other children are very delicate, you should treat everyone with the respect the deserve, try to keep a level head about things, don't fight, blah blah blah…' You don't need to tell me again, Alice. Just send me to Roger's office so he can give me the 'this your final warning' speech' again, and we can get this all over with."

Alice, one of the members of staff at Wammy's House, frowned. Most of the children in the orphanage provided her with _some_ sort of problem… but out of all of them, Mello was possibly the worst. True, he didn't have quite as many… _particular_ habits as some of the other children, but he had a tendency to always find himself in the middle of things. It was as though he was a magnet for trouble…

… Which wasn't surprising, considering the way he treated everyone else. He had a way of being extremely arrogant and violent towards people, whilst at the same time appeared to be impossibly bored with everything around him. He was absolutely insufferable.

There was no reasoning with him, despite the fact that he was an extremely intelligent and measured young man.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let's go and tell Roger about this."

Begrudgingly, Mello followed her through the corridors of the building, to Roger's office. She knocked politely, and opened the door.

And screamed.

--

The door flew open.

Watari entered.

The Task Force fell silent.

"L!" the old man said, an unmistakable quaver of fear in his voice.

"… What is it, Watari?"

"It's… Roger."

"Roger?"

"Kira found Roger. This morning – a heart attack, even though he was completely fine yesterday… I was… I'd only spoken to him yesterday, and…"

The scene was unreal.

It was difficult to tell, but… on Watari's cheeks…

Tears?

L had never seen Watari cry.

And… Kira had found Roger? Kira had found Wammy's House?

…

For the first time, logic failed L.

What could he do?

He hated himself for it, but… he didn't know what to do.

…

Watari needed a hug. Logic could wait for the moment.

--

Chaos. Panic. Disorder.

That was what the plan required.

Beyond needed a distraction, and – more than that – he needed a weakness to exploit.

L's weakness was Wammy's House. Strike there, and the stability crumbled.

Roger wasn't important in himself… but as a figure, as the manager of the orphanage in Watari's absence… he was crucial.

Roger dies of a heart attack, Watari gets a phone call. Any report of a heart attack in this social climate – especially if the victim was working with L – would instantly be assumed the work of Kira.

If Kira had indeed found Wammy's House, they would need to set up precautions. L's life would truly be in danger, because if Kira knew to attack the orphanage, it would only be logical to assume that Kira knew about L's connections with it…

And, at the same time, Roger's death would leave the orphanage – if only momentarily – without direct management. It would take time for Watari to sort things out, especially considering the fact that he was currently stationed in Japan, which would mean that he would either have to sort it out remotely or – in an extreme case – head back to England…

L was vulnerable. L's successors were vulnerable.

Beyond only wished that Kira would have been left vulnerable too; it sickened him to think that he was in some way helping his own murderer…

… But that would change in due time. He had bigger things to focus on at the moment. Mass murderers could wait. He withdrew his thumb from his mouth with a dull pop, and closed the notebook. He had killed enough people for now.

Now was the time for… socialising.

"Toto?" he smiled.

From one of the other holes, the pale Shinigami groaned. "Are you still here, Beyond?"

"Oh, yes. I'm not about to abandon my two dearest friends now, am I?" he called. "Gelus _is_ still there, I assume?"

The small greenish lump sitting next to Rem made a barely audible response. "He said 'yes'. I doubt you're surprised, seeing as he's been sitting in the same place for several years, but… yes, he's here."

"That's good to hear," said B, scuttling over to them on all fours. "I wouldn't want our little trio to turn into a double-act without warning. How is my favourite little pile of decaying body parts?" he patted Gelus on the head.

"Muh," said Gelus.

"Good, good," B nodded, and crouched down beside him.

He had killed Roger Ruvie, turned Wammy's House upside down, ripped L's security to shreds, and…

… The fun hadn't even started yet.

All he needed now was to drop his Death Note…

… Or…

He glanced over at Gelus.

… Or _any_ Death Note…

Gelus stared at the girl in the hole with a vacant, faraway expression.

… Any Death Note at all…

A rather crooked smile spread across Beyond's face.

--

**Author's Note:** _All you Mello, Near and Matt fans can breathe a sigh of relief now._

… _Or at least you can for the moment… henh-henh-henh…_

_I'm still a bit worried that this chapter sounds a bit rushed, but on the whole I'm quite happy with it. I'm going to have to be, because there really isn't any turning back from this point._

_To be honest, I'm shocked to think how long it's taken me to write this: really, considering the fact that I'm enjoying this so much…_

_Speaking of enjoying stories, and about lazy posting, I feel the need to plug FFYP-det-Lawliet's B fic, _'Sequel'_. If you haven't read it, I recommend that you start, and if you ARE reading it, I suggest you send the author a playful kick up the backside to get her writing the next chapter quicker._

… _Because she won't listen to me…_

_After you've read that, though, don't forget to come back here!! XD _


	9. Page Nine

_An interesting update, especially seeing as:_

_a) it's two chapters in one go, and,_

_b) Beyond Birthday isn't actually in either of them, despite this story being about him._

_... Ah well. I imagine I'll be making it up to all you Matt fans out there..._

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note probably isn't mine. Probably._

_--_

**Page Nine: 24****th**** January, 2004 (Continued)**

A grey sky drifted overhead.

The cold concrete loomed below.

And suddenly, there was a book.

A slim, black notebook. A little worn around the edges, and with strange, unreadable characters scrawled across the front cover.

It had fallen from somewhere.

But where? Looking up at the sky, there was nothing that it could have fallen from… and even if it had, say, dropped out of an aeroplane (as unlikely as that might be), it was virtually impossible for it to have survived the fall. It would have been ripped to pieces, surely…

On one hand, Matt saw that the notebook was obviously dangerous. If years of trawling through predictable video game plots had taught him one thing, it was that even the most unassuming of items could potentially be dangerous – and picking up items that had just appeared out of nowhere and looked painfully normal… was generally a bad idea.

On the other hand, he had just come outside to get away from the throngs of kids who had gone inside to hear more about Roger's death… and frankly, he was bored, and didn't really care much at the moment.

He adjusted his goggles, and picked up the notebook.

…

How boring. Nothing written in it at all.

…

Still, there was no harm in him keeping it for a while, was there?


	10. Page Ten

**Page Ten: 25****th**** January, 2004**

"Matt."

From behind the glare of the TV screen, Matt nodded vaguely. He was on level 22. "What?" he replied, only barely noting that Mello had even spoken to him.

Mello was holding something flat and black in his hand, and waved it around a little. "You've been carrying this notebook around for a while… and I can't remember seeing it before. Where'd you get it?"

Ah. The notebook. That made sense. As Matt drew his shotgun and successfully blasted a zombie's head off, he replied, "Found it. Outside."

"Oh, really? So has someone left any notes in it? Got any idea who it belongs to?"

Matt's bottom jaw moved, but no words came out. If he could just make _this_ jump, he'd unlock the stealth armour…

Suddenly, the screen went black.

Matt's brow furrowed.

And Mello, tossing the plug at the back of the TV aside, smiled sadistically. "So, do you know who the book belongs to?"

Mello just didn't understand. _Level 22._ The _stealth armour_.

… Still, there was no point in sulking. The sooner he got the conversation over with, the quicker he could get back to fragging. "…Sorry, I don't. And there's no notes in it either. It's just a regular old blank notebook… though I guess it's a little strange how I found it though, seeing as it just seemed to have fallen out of nowhere…"

It was Mello's turn to frown. "… What?"

"Well, first it wasn't there, and then it just… appeared. On the floor," Said Matt. "Like it had been dropped by something, but there was nothing for it to have dropped from."

Mello stared at him, then stared at the book. His expression hardened. He turned to the door, the book still clutched in his hand.

"Hey – that _is_ mine, you know," Matt called after him.

"First of all, it isn't yours… and secondly… I'm taking it for potential evidence."

Taking it for… what? "Potential evidence for what?" he asked.

Mello turned back to face him, and rolled his eyes. "For someone supposed to be clever, you really are dumb sometimes… Think about it. Kira's on the loose, and he can kill people by _making_ them have heart attacks, which isn't something you can generally do to people. On top of that, Roger's just died of a heart attack, which could mean that Kira has decided to kill him. And then, from out of nowhere," he waved the book once again, "a random book just drops out of the sky. I'm not saying these things are definitely linked, but… come on. It's a bit weird, isn't it?"

That sounded reasonable. Of course, the thought hadn't crossed Matt's mind before, but now that he considered it… "… Fine. You can take the book."

Mello grinned, and made his way out of the room. "Technically I didn't need your permission, but thanks."

Now it was back to level 22. He was going to get that stealth armour if it killed him.

--

"Mello."

From behind the pages of a battered, black notebook, Mello growled. "Near," he replied. "What is it?"

Near walked towards him, sleepily, and sat down on the floor next to him. "That book you're looking at… You took it from Matt, didn't you?"

"That's really none of your business."

Near scowled. "I noticed that he had been carrying it around since yesterday, but I've never seen it before. I can rule out him actually going out and buying it, as it's obviously old – and it's unlikely that you're going to find a second-hand notebook on sale… and seeing as Matt didn't leave the grounds of the orphanage yesterday, I'd be safe to assume that he'd found it here."

"What's to say that he didn't already have this book?"

"He didn't," said Near, grumbling. "I _do_ pay attention to these things."

Mello sighed. "Fine. Yes, he found it here."

"Do you have any idea who originally owned it?"

"No."

"Can I have a look at it?" Without waiting for a response, Near plucked the book out of Mello's hand, and began turning it over in his hands.

"… Be my guest," Mello seethed.

After a few moment's inspection, Near tossed the book back at him. "Do you know what the symbols on the front cover mean?"

"No," said Mello. "Do you?"

"No," said Near. "I wouldn't have asked if I…"

"Good. Now you've proven that you're of absolutely no use to me at the moment, you can go away and bug somebody else."

Begrudgingly, Near got to his feet and slouched away.

Now, Mello could get back to the book. There was something strange about it, he could feel it… and he was going to get to the bottom of it if it killed him.

--

"Rem."

From behind a lone, jagged pillar, Rem appeared. "What is it, Gelus?" she replied, noting –with some concern – that her friend had actually bothered to turn away from the hole he watched the girl through.

"I was… I was meaning to ask… before. But…" the little Shinigami stared sheepishly at his feet, then stared back up into Rem's eyes. "… I don't know where my… notebook is."

She wasn't particularly surprised. He spent so much time looking down into the human realm that he'd be likely to mislay his head if it weren't attached securely…

… Though, looking at all the loose stitches in him…

"So basically, you want me to help find your Death Note."

"… Yes."

"Do you have any idea where you left it?"

Gelus looked sheepish again. "Under my bottom. I always sit on my Death Note, so I remember where it is."

If it were possible for Shinigami to blush, Rem would have. "… Erm… I see. So… I imagine you've checked there then. How did you manage to lose it?"

"… I never said I lost it…"

Silence fell for a few moments.

"Gelus," said Rem.

"What?"

"… When was the last time you saw Beyond?" she asked, already knowing what the answer would probably be.

"Well, I was… I was meaning to mention that…"

"Alright. So he's stolen your Death Note. How much time have you got before you need to write down another name?"

He looked puzzled, and stared at the floor for a long time. "… I can't remember."

"Oh."

She knew he was trouble.

Beyond Birthday.

He had one of those looks about him, and she _knew_ he'd been planning something.

There was only one reason why any Shinigami would want another Death Note.

… Like Ryuk.

It was a ticket into the human world.

And now…

… Now she'd have to go down into the human world too.

She was going to get Gelus' notebook back from Beyond… even if it killed him.

--

**Author's Note:** _What a confused set-up that was. I hope people can still bear to read on..._

_Which reminds me. What _do_ you think, o readers? Love it, hate it, want more B in it? (Seriously, he'll be back in the next chapter...) I'd just like to know._

_Thanks for reading up to this point! More will be up soon!_


	11. Page Eleven

_Oh dear. Oh dear me._

_Beyond Birthday, a Death Note, and the Wammy kids, all under one roof._

_… And, to make it even worse, a writer with a tendency to make things terribly ambiguous and/or obscure…_

_Still, playing it from the rules of the Death Note, this is how Page Eleven unfolds…_

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note isn't mine. In fact, it belongs to someone else entirely…_

--

**Page Eleven: 25****th**** January, 2004 (continued)**

It was night.

Underneath the sheets, Near held the flashlight steady on his knee.

With his free hand, Max Robo Red was levelling Manhattan, as all good giant robots do.

Another skyscraper of dominoes toppled to the ground, reduced to rubble, and Max Robo Red continued his rampage.

Near didn't usually stay up too late. He also didn't often spend his time playing with toys so childishly: more often than not, the toys were demonstrative, reconstructive…

… But it was good to relax every once in a while. Good to escape from things.

Max Robo Red eyed the government office building with discontent.

Near felt that, perhaps, he should consider smiling.

The robot raised its fully articulated leg into the air, and poised it above the building. Then…

"Henh henh henh…"

Max Robo toppled backwards onto the bed silently. Near sighed, and threw the sheets back. "Who is it?"

Someone had laughed.

And yet there was nobody around.

Strange.

"Who is it?" Near asked once again.

At that point, someone – or some_thing_ – drifted through one wall, floated across the room waving merrily, and melted through the opposite wall.

Near frowned, and returned to destroying his city.

--

The city of Manhattan. Destroyed, and left desolate by a titanic mechanical bio-weapon. Leaving one man, and one man alone alive.

One man, with a gun.

And the game's opening credits hadn't even rolled yet.

Matt got the feeling he was going to enjoy doing this one. He took another sip of his soda, and returned his thumbs to the controller, waiting for the game to truly begin.

The first type of enemy, as he had come to expect from any self-respecting post-apocalyptic survival shooter, was the regular brand of zombie: acts like a drunkard, looks a bit like a human but – obviously – a slightly mutated one. Ergo, not very special, and not very scary. Matt shot a few rounds into the first wave of them without even breaking into a virtual sweat.

He shrugged. On second thoughts, perhaps he _wouldn't_ enjoy it: gunning down the undead was getting to be a little too easy, so much so that the excitement was starting to wear off. He wondered for a moment, about the reports of young people being desensitised by violent films and computer games, but frankly couldn't find it in himself to care whether it was true or not.

The fact of the matter was, he was getting bored, and he needed a change of pace.

Something dramatic. Something that would bring him to the edge of his seat… Something, he thought, a little more bloodthirsty.

But what? What could possib…

… buh…

Matt's stared at the _thing_ that had just floated in front of his screen.

It looked like a human, but… not. It was too monstrous to be human, not to even mention the fact that it was just gliding above the floor…

… It was grinning like a madman. Its eyes were wild. And for only a split second, it paused and tilted its head to look at him.

"Good evening, Mail," it said, still smiling, and continued on its path through the room.

It melted through the wall.

…

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!" Matt screamed, torn half way between cowering further into his chair and running to the door in terror. "M…Muh-MONSTER!!"

He flinched as the door handle clicked, and a figure stepped into the room.

"Oh," said Near, twirling a piece of hair between his fingers. "So you saw it too, then."

--

Monster? Beyond mused on this as he drifted through the other rooms of Wammy's House. Was he a monster? Did he really look so terrifying?

He glanced down at himself, and couldn't help but laugh.

Evidently he hadn't paid much attention to his own appearance over the past few days… He genuinely hadn't noticed it happening, and seeing as the rules of the Shinigami were a little vague in some areas, he _had_ been wondering how the change happened…

He looked at his hands, and wiggled his fingers…

… Or, rather, his claws.

Now curious about himself, he raised one of his hands to his face, and noted the sunken eye-sockets, the… slightly pointier qualities of his teeth…

Whether it was spending time in the Shinigami Realm, or using the Death Note, Beyond Birthday was slowly becoming a new creature.

A real Shinigami.

How… interesting.

But unfortunately, now was not the time for him to start marvelling at himself. The other notebook was near, and he needed to find it – along with its new owner.

Mihael Keehl.

Mello.

B was glad that the book had changed hands, and that the Matt boy had so willingly handed the book over to Mello as 'evidence'… As had been proven tonight, Matt definitely wasn't the sort of person he wanted to possess.

He _needed_ someone inquisitive, motivated… and, most importantly, he needed someone who had loose morals.

He _needed_ another Beyond Birthday – or, failing that, he could always make do with a Mihael Keehl.

--

The notebook.

Black cover, unidentifiable white markings on the front – possibly some sort of language…?

Sixty pages, with thirty-eight lines to each page.

Slightly battered.

Discovered, according to Matt's rather vague account, 'outside, on the floor', on the day of Roger's death.

...

Mello hit his head on the desk in frustration, and turned off the table lamp. No matter how hard he looked at it, and no matter what tests he performed with it, nothing happened.

It acted just like an ordinary notebook.

He had tried writing in it, but nothing had come of it, other than he now had a page which stated the words 'Hello' and 'Reveal your secrets' written on it in blue ink. He had tried checking it for fingerprints, but other than Matt's, Near's and his own, there didn't appear to be any. He had even ripped out a page and burned it, but it just burned in exactly the same way as any other page of a notebook would.

It was hopeless.

Which wasn't to say that he was giving up on it. He _knew_ there was something funny about the notebook, and even if it took him months, he'd find out what it was.

Right now, however, he was tired. All he wanted to do was read a book with _words_ in, and go to bed: he could start work on this again in the morning. Perhaps sleeping on it would give him a few more ideas…

He flipped the notebook over once more, out of habit more than anything, and slid out of his chair.

Things would be easier in the morning. He'd be one step closer to solving the mystery. He knew it.

He slouched across the floor, and made his way to his bed.

… A hand touched his shoulder.

A very cold, sharp, harsh grip, as though talons were holding him.

"Hello, Mello," said a voice.

--

**Author's Note:** _Apologies to everyone who thought that Matt was going to be the owner of the Death Note… Unfortunately, I have something a little different lined up for him…_

_But finally, B has met his vict… I mean, companion. Near and Matt have seen B, and now…_

… _Well, now is the time for B to start solving the rest of his problems. Seeking revenge on Kira, showing his supremacy over L…_

_Oh, and before I forget (as if I'd forget a thing like this – FFYP-det-Lawliet has posted some pictures of the new-improved Shinigami B, as per my design specifications. There's links to them on my profile page, so there's no excuse for you to not check them out! XP_

_On closing this remarkably short chapter, I'd like to ask a few questions of you, readers – if you don't mind, of course. First, is anyone extremely annoyed that Matt isn't the Death Note holder? Second, is anyone slightly discouraged by the idea of B looking slightly less human and slightly more Marilyn Manson with a skin complaint (XD) ? Finally, how do you think Mello and B are going to get on? (That last one's just because I'm interested to see what the answers are…)_

… _Anyway. I've been yapping for far too long._

_Next chapter should be up soon, but not before I get my other running fic back on track… I've been leaving that one on the back-burner for far too long again…_


	12. Page Twelve

_DISCLAIMER: Is Death Note mine? Well, seeing as I'm not wading through bags of money to get to my computer desk… no. No, it isn't._

--

**Page Twelve: 25****th**** January, 2004 (continued)**

The voice sounded… strange. Soft and unassuming, but undeniably menacing; familiar and yet unlike anything Mello had ever heard before.

The claws still digging into his shoulder, he turned around, slowly.

Two rows of sharp teeth gleamed at him.

"Going to bed so early?" said the creature... the _person?_ It was hard to tell, and Mello was pretty sure that people didn't usually have fangs and claws. It tilted its head a little, and hunched down until it was at eye level with him. "You'll never get to be the next L with that kind of attitude – unlike me. Sleeping is for _losers_."

Mello took a deep breath before he spoke. "… Okay. I don't know how you got in here, or why you're bothering me, or who the hell you are… but I don't really care, either. Just get out of my room."

"And you don't know how I got in here… It doesn't sound as though you'll make a very good detective at all. Maybe you should reconsider your career options, Mihael Keehl."

…

Mihael?

Mihael Keehl?

How could this intruder know his true name? As far as he was aware, more than half of the staff of Wammy's didn't know his true name. All of the other children in the orphanage – Near and Matt included – didn't know it either.

So how could a complete stranger…?

"Why are you here?" asked Mello, with a little more confidence.

"The notebook," said the intruder, seemingly gliding across the floor and picking the worn black notebook from the desk. "You see, I dropped it – and I came to find it. However, it seems that you found it… which presents," its smile broadened, "an interesting problem."

"I don't have any major problems with you just taking it," said Mello. "If it's yours, I guess you can take it back if you want to."

The intruder's smile grew ever broader. "Oh no, it's not _that_ kind of problem – in truth, I don't WANT the book back. The main problem arises if you give the book back."

"… What? How?"

"It's quite simple. If you give the book back, then my plan won't work. And if my plan doesn't work, then I'm going to have to kill everyone in this building."

"WHAT!!?"

"You're asking a lot of direct questions, Mihael. It's the sign of weakness in the investigation business," said the intruder, drifting over and planting his talons back on Mello's shoulder. "I don't like repeating myself, but… If you don't cooperate with my plans and use this notebook, then I'm willing to kill every single member of Wammy's House. Do you think I should work through them chronologically or alphabetically?"

Mello stared at the notebook. "... What's your plan?" he spoke as calmly as possible. "What do you expect me to do?"

"All in good time, all in good time. The first question you should be asking is 'How do you propose to kill everyone in Wammy's House, Mr. Birthday?' For all you know, I could just be bluffing, couldn't I?"

"Mister… Birthday."

"Yes?"

"Your name is Mr. Birthday."

"And your name is Mr. Keehl," said the intruder. "My name sounds a lot less stupid than yours. May I continue?"

Bemused, Mello nodded.

"Thank you. Now, you're probably expecting me to say that, in order to kill everyone here, I've rigged the building with explosives… or that I'm preparing to gas you all by putting carbon monoxide through the ventilation shafts. However, this is untrue. First and foremost, because it isn't the way I would like to do things – second, because there is a much easier way for me to kill people." Mr. Birthday removed his hand from Mello's shoulder again, and delved it inside one of the deep pockets in his jeans. With a bit of rummaging he pulled out a red notebook, much the same size and shape as the black one he was holding in the other hand. He handed it to Mello. "Open it."

Mello flipped open the book, and read the first page.

There were two entries:

_Paolo Santiego._

_Dies at 11:37 a.m. on 24__th__ January, 2004, after falling down stairs and breaking his neck._

…and…

"Roger… So you're the person who killed Roger."

"Yes," said Mr. Birthday, looking pleased with himself. "I hope you're grateful, because he really was an insufferable old coot."

Mello frowned. "As much as I didn't like him… He died of a heart attack, and that's how Kira kills his victims. You've just admitted to murdering him, so… does this mean that I'm talking to Kira?"

"If I were Kira, my notebook would have a lot more names written in it. I would also be extremely stupid and naïve, and I certainly wouldn't be brilliant enough to think up this plan."

"… But you can kill people in the same way."

"Correct," said Mr. Birthday. "And so can you."

"… What?"

"What about what?"

"What do you mean, saying that I can kill people like Kira? How?"

"You're mumbling." Mr. Birthday frowned. "I hate mumblers… So, will you please shut up and let me finish my explanation? I'm getting a bit tired of all these interruptions."

Mello didn't want to aggravate him, especially seeing as he was already threatening to kill people if he didn't receive cooperation.

"… Thank you," he grinned, his sharp teeth glistening. "Now, because I have so gracefully shown you the mechanics behind my murders –"

According to Mello's account, Mr. Birthday had only shown him that he had written down some names in a notebook… but at this moment in time, there was little point in arguing.

"– I suppose I should explain to you exactly what I require you to do, and… what's in it for you if you fulfil the tasks I set."

What's in it for… ? What kind of a murderer _was_ this, anyway? Blackmailing someone into working for you, and then giving them a reward for good behaviour!? It wasn't as though Mello was going to complain, but…

"I require only three things from you, Mihael. First, I require you to be as ruthless as the situation requires. If I _want_ you to kill someone, kill them – and if I'm being a merciful god, then you do _not_ kill them. Understood?"

"Hang on a minute, you want me to _ki…_"

"_Second_," said Mr. Birthday, with all the subtle force of a surgical cut, "I want you to use your own brain. Of course, I will be the mastermind behind the overall plan, but I don't want to bother explaining every last detail to you. If I give you something to do, I don't care how it's done, so long as it doesn't contradict or jeopardise the plan. And… the last thing I require from you is that…"

The words hung in the air for so long that, by the time he spoke again, Mello had almost forgotten what they were talking about in the first place.

"I'd very much like you to get me some food. Anything, it doesn't matter, so long as it doesn't taste like sand."

"… You know, those are surprisingly reasonable demands, except the one about killing people," said Mello.

"I aim to please," said Mr. Birthday. "Sometimes."

"Fine… So, what _is_ in it for me, then?"

"A chance to meet L, for one. So, what do you say?"

L… Even if Birthday was lying, there was only one answer that Mello could choose.

"… When do I start?"

--

**Author's Note:** _Not much in the way of action, but at least I've got through this, with Mello and B's characters both intact. I think._

_B's next objective, for reference, will be to get out of Wammy's... which will be happening on Page 14._

_What's going to happen on Page 13? Well, in the tradition of all ridiculously long fanfics I write... there's a bonus chapter coming up. I figured page 13 would be appropriate... I know that my bonus chapters might have a tendency to annoy some people, but... well, this one is duly needed, especially seeing as I've been planning to do it for a long time..._

_Character File 37. Beyond Birthday. __Hope you like!_

_But what matters more, in my opinion, is whether you like where the story is going. Reader input, please? That'd be nice, if you have the time..._


	13. Page Th1rte3n

_Seeing as I'm trying to integrate B into Death Note here, I figured it would make sense to do this…_

_Of course, I'm not asking you to take every word of this as the truth, and I don't think I'm technically right on all of these points, but… it's a framework._

_For all you B fans that picked up 'How to Read' and felt a little disappointed that your favourite jam-guzzling psychopath didn't make a true appearance…_

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note and Another Note aren't mine. Please don't sue me, Shonen Jump…_

--

**Page Thirteen: An Omission  
****Character File 37 – Beyond Birthday (human)**

**Personal Data  
**True Name: Beyond Birthday  
Birthday: 9/18/1982  
Deathday: 1/21/2004  
Height: 5'11"  
Weight: 117lbs  
Blood Type: O  
Likes: L Lawliet  
Dislikes: L Lawliet

Intelligence: 7/10  
Creativity: 10/10  
Initiative: 10/10  
Emotional Strength: 7/10  
Social Skills: 2/10  
Flexibility: 10/10

**Basic Data  
**_The Murderer Living in L's Shadow  
_One of the original children of Wammy's, and a former heir to the L name. B's inferiority complex and loose morals, however, led him to a very different fate... and a life of crime.

**Personality  
**_An Underhanded Chameleon Actor  
_Exceptionally weird, but in such a way that he can adapt to any situation. Unlike the other members of Wammy's House, B has a chameleon-like tendency to adapt to his surroundings.

**Abilities  
**_Eyes of a God of Death  
_B was born with the ability to see the names and lifespans of any human he sees, except himself - much like a Shinigami. Why or how this came to be, though, is unclear.

**Obsession  
**_Letters and Numbers  
_Perhaps due to the Shinigami eyes, B's plans tend to revolve around letters and numbers, and a certain world-renowned detective...

**B Quotes  
**"I feel the word 'private' carries with it an excess of neurotic egotism... you might say that I am an unprivate detective - a detective without ego." _(Another Note, page 44)_  
_What originally could be seen as a joke is actually a direct attack at L's method of investigation._

"When I start thinking, I get a craving for sweets. If I want to work well, jam is essential. Sugar is good for the brain." _(Another Note, page 49)_  
_Scarily similar to L's own train of thought concerning sweets, it's unclear whether B is saying this because he believes it himself, or because he's mimicking..._

"I have never once been submissive. One of the few things I can boast about. I have never even been submissive to a traffic signal." _(Another Note, page 82)_  
_Again, B makes light of something that is important. Whilst this sounds like a joke, his sentiments couldn't be more accurate._

"If only I could see the death of the world..." _(Another Note, page 95)_  
_One of the few things B says whilst not under the pseudonym of Rue Ryuzaki. Extremely ominous, and very unlike the comic detective that he pretends to be..._

--

**Author's Note:** _And... that's B. To me, at least._

_More stuff should be up soon!_


	14. Page Fourteen

_DISCLAIMER: Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata do not endorse this product. However, it'd be really amazing if they did…_

--

**Page Fourteen: 26****th**** January, 2004**

Every boarding school, every juvenile detention centre, and every orphanage has a hidden entrance. With so many rebellious young minds crammed into one place, it would be ridiculous to expect anything else.

Wammy's House was certainly no exception to this rule. Ever inquisitive, the children of the orphanage made it their duty to find as many hidden nooks and escape routes within the grounds as humanly possible.

Purely for reference, of course.

Practice, for detective work in later life.

Of course.

The main entrance aside, there had always been three commonly known ways in and out of the building. Even from the first batch of successors, the Wammy's children had always known of The Hole in The Back Wall, The Gap in The Hedge, and – most interestingly – The Cellar, which seemed to be an unsealed escape tunnel constructed during the war.

As could be expected from an institution built under L, security was usually tight in the orphanage. Though the staff were fair, Watari and Roger hadn't been stupid: they knew the secret passageways as well as the children, and because of this always knew where to watch. Only the bravest or foolhardiest would dare to actually use these exits…

Thankfully, Beyond Birthday was one member of the House that had dared.

Mello was another.

--

"Your first mission, should you choose to accept it," Mr. Birthday had said, in all seriousness, "is to escape the building undetected. Of course, I won't have a problem doing that, because I can do this."

He'd demonstrated his ability to pass through solid objects by disappearing through the floor, and bobbing back up again.

"If anyone catches us, it's unlikely that they'll be able to see me – they'll only see you, unless they've touched the notebook," he had explained. "And remember. If anyone _does_ see you, it won't be you getting in trouble. I'm not going to let anything get in the way of this plan, and I wouldn't be happy if I had to look for a new assistant… So if someone finds you, I'll kill them."

Not a comforting thought. Of course, he could be bluffing, but…

Mello cracked his knuckles.

Somewhere down the hallway, he could hear the clock chiming.

Midnight.

He was starting to like Mr. Birthday. Not as a person, and his motives and methods were inhuman, but…

… He knew how to do things. He knew how to put people on the spot, and he didn't care what he had to do to make situations turn out the way he wanted them to.

That was something Mello could respect.

Though it didn't change the fact that Mr. Birthday was an irritating, arrogant madman with all the tact and poise of a peanut. And it also didn't change the fact that he needed to reach The Cellar without anyone noticing him.

_Everybody had better thank me for putting my neck on the line for them like this,_ he snarled, as he ducked behind another conveniently placed armchair.

… _Well, technically it's _their_ necks on the line, but the sentiments are still the same… Right?_

--

"So," said Near. "The creature we saw looked similar to a human male, measured somewhere around six feet in height. Black hair, dark rings around the eyes… and with talons."

Matt nodded nervously. "And the teeth. You… You, uhm, forgot the teeth."

The pale youth rolled his eyes. "Yes, he had sharp teeth," he added. "Even though that has absolutely nothing to do with what I was about to say, yes – he had _sharp teeth_."

A silence followed.

"Judging from the overall appearance of the creature, and the fact that it seemed to be able to float through solid material," Near's fingers coiled around a lock of hair, and twisted, "it's only logical to assume that it wasn't a species that humans have often encountered. It looks as though we may be dealing with a supernatural being."

Regardless of the fear, Matt couldn't help but frown. "You can't be serious, can you? Supernatural? Are we talking… ghosts?"

"There's every possibility of that, yes."

"Ghosts don't exist."

"Or, then again, they might exist," said Near. "We have no way of knowing for certain at the present moment, but considering the matter at hand, I think it would be best if we kept an open mind."

Matt shrank further into his chair. "… Okay. I'll assume, for the moment… that… that ghosts exist. And other things like that, too." He visibly shivered.

"So. Assuming that he's a ghost and that he resembles a human, it's reasonable to believe that it's the after-image of a dead person."

Matt shivered again. "But… but assuming that ghosts exist, is it likely that… Aren't ghosts supposed to be bound to a certain area? Doesn't that mean that Wammy's House would be that _thing's_ haunting grounds?"

"If we take rumours to be true," said Near, "yes."

"B-but I certainly haven't seen it around before tonight."

Near sighed, and examined his foot with little interest. "Which would mean that it either isn't a ghost, or it happens to be a recently deceased resident of Wammy's House."

"There's only one person who's recently died around here, and that… thing _definitely_ didn't look like Roger."

"Therefore, we can automatically assume that it isn't a ghost. Or at least not a ghost in the traditional sense," Near made a rare glance upwards, and stared directly into Matt's eyes. "I think we need more information. You can go and find the creature, and see what it's up to."

Matt swallowed hard. "And what exactly will you be doing whilst I'm doing that?"

"… I'm going to find that black notebook."

"Why?"

"Because Mello was probably right in being suspicious of it."

--

"You took your time," Beyond growled as Mello entered through the trapdoor of The Cellar. "I thought you said you'd done this before."

"The last time I used this escape route, I didn't have to keep myself hidden all the way from my bedroom," Mello panted. "I also think the security's stepped up a little after Roger died."

"Excuses, excuses. I got down here _ages_ ago. You were just dawdling."

"You can go through solid walls," said Mello. "… Anyway. Just shut up and tell me what we're doing."

B rolled his eyes. "Currently, we're standing in a very dark tunnel. Soon, I imagine we will be walking in a south-easterly direction, towards the exit."

"Stop being a smartass."

"I'm not being a smartass," said B, grinning. "I'm just not being cooperative. As you're my hostage, I'm not obliged to help you. Now I'd advise you to start walking, or your friends are going to drop like flies."

"Which reminds me," Mello began walking down the passageway, "you never explained how you kill people."

"Did too. Obviously you just weren't paying attention."

"If you could run the basic details past me just one more time…" said Mello, hopefully.

"... Dorothy has acquired a new travelling companion. From now on, Mr. Keehl, you can be my scarecrow."

"Your what?!"

B's smile broadened, and he began to sing tunelessly. "_If I only had a brain…_"

--

**Author's Note:** _Yes, I'm probably pushing the 'Wizard of Oz' references a little far here, but… you know… I just couldn't resist that one!! XD_

_How's everyone enjoying the story so far? Would anyone like to take the initiative and give me a metaphorical boot up the backside for not hurrying up with the plot here?_

_Yes, I know… More action and eventual Death Note usage should be coming up in the next few chapters, along with a return appearance of Rem (who seems, from some of the reviews I've received for this, to be as popular as B is), and much more…_


	15. Page Fifteen

_So._

_Have B and Mello escaped Wammy's successfully? Will Near and Matt be able to solve this supernatural case? Will L get a break? When will Light get his comeuppance for killing people? And where on earth (or perhaps, not on earth) has Rem got to?_

_Answers to two of these questions, coming right up!_

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note isn't mine. I mean, can you _imagine_?!_

_--_

**Page Fifteen: 26****th**** January, 2004**

A hand knocked delicately on the door. "Excuse me," said a voice. "May I come in?"

There was no answer.

The door opened a crack, and the face of a concerned, middle-aged woman peeked around the corner.

Near frowned as the gust from the door opening sent his tower of cards toppling over, and scattering across the room. "…What is it, Mrs Hacker?" he sighed.

Mrs Hacker, the matron of the East Wing of Wammy's House, stepped a little further through the doorway. As she entered, she noticed a shivering lump sitting in the corner of the room which – on closer inspection – appeared to be young Matt. "You don't often have visitors in your room, Near. It's good to see you're finally making friends."

"If you mean him," Near nodded at Matt, who was currently trying to calm his nerves with a handheld video game, "he's not my friend. We were just discussing something. Now, what is it, Mrs Hacker?"

"Oh… Well, I suppose it's best that you two are together, seeing as you're both more likely to know than anyone else… Have either of you seen Mello this morning?" she sighed, adopting her usual 'boys will be boys' expression. "Only I haven't seen him, and after looking in his room it doesn't appear that he slept in his bed last night."

At those words, Matt's eyes grew wide. Shakily, he brought himself to his feet, carefully placed his game on the chair he had been sitting on, and opened his mouth to speak. "Mrs Ha…"

"Mrs Hacker," said Near, clutching at a few nearby cards and beginning to rebuild his tower, "I'm sure you know Mello as well as either of us do, if not better – after all, he _has_ been in Wammy's longer than Matt or myself, and as I heard that you've been working here for the past sixteen years… I imagine you'd be fairly aware that he is as unpredictable and secretive as the rest of the children here."

"So he didn't tell you if he was going anywhere," said Mrs Hacker.

"No," said Near.

The matron shrugged. "Alright. I suppose we'll have to start searching for him, then."

She left the room.

Matt stared in disbelief at her absence. "I… But… Near?"

"Yes, Matt?"

"We saw that monster last night. We found out that Mello had gone hours ago… and we have important information that could help her find Mello. Why did you send her away like that, as though we didn't know that he's been kidnapped?"

"Because," Near added the third tier to his tower, "we _don't_ know that he's been kidnapped. We saw a strange creature, and we found that Mello and the notebook were missing when we checked on him last night. Telling them that we believe a monster has abducted Mello because of a mysterious book will only make everyone think that we're delusional."

"But… but I _know_ that monster has something to do with it," gasped Matt, exasperatedly. "Mello _has_ been taken because of that book – it's the only thing that makes sense, given what we know! We can't just leave him out there with that _thing_; we have to get him back somehow!"

"You're becoming hysterical," the white haired boy muttered. "The fact of the matter is, no one would believe us if we said that something floated through a wall and took him. I too would like to help Mello, but we can't get outside assistance without being absolutely sure that they'll take us seriously."

Matt stared at the floor for a long time. "So… what do we do?"

"We have two options," said Near. "We could either try to find him on our own, which would be more practical but a little more difficult to organise… or we could contact Watari, which would complicate matters for him and L but provide us with more resources."

"Which do you suggest?"

"I suggest we think it through," said Near.

--

Two heavy, black boots thudded off the platform and shuffled slowly onto the train. A trail of chocolate crumbs followed behind them.

Mihael Keehl. Exhausted.

He slumped into a nearby seat, and took another mouthful of chocolate.

He only had three more full-size bars left. After that, he'd have to resort to the smaller bars he'd stashed away, and then… he'd have to go ahead and buy a different brand. The kind of chocolate he liked most was a particularly rare stock, and generally had to be imported or bought from specialist stores that stocked it…

What didn't help matters was that Mello was currently going through a lot more chocolate than usual. That may have had something to do with Mr. Birthday taking almost as many bites as he was.

"I can just buy you something to eat," he had told Mr. Birthday, after the first few times the monster had snapped off a square or three.

"No need. We're both mature enough to share things, aren't we?" Mr. Birthday had grinned.

And so, with no way of arguing with him, chocolate had been disappearing rather quickly.

They had been on the move for about eight hours, and the majority of that time had been spent walking. Mello's legs ached, and though he was used to staying up late every once in a while, the constant 'companionship' he had endured was enough to drive even the calmest of people to cold-blooded murder. His kidnapper's requests didn't seem quite so unfeasible any more.

The train was cramped and bustling, and the sound of hundreds of people muttering to one another flooded his ears. Even despite all the energy around him, it was difficult for Mello to keep his eyes open.

Beside him, Mr. Birthday quietly took another piece of chocolate. It was a good thing that people were so inobservant when they were busy. "Mihael," he said, popping the chocolate between his lips. "I hope you aren't planning on falling asleep. There'll be time for that later."

"I haven't slept for over twenty-four hours," whispered Mello. "What else do you expect me to do?"

"Honestly, this is no way to be acting," Mr. Birthday smirked. He licked his sharp, chocolate-stained teeth. "You aspire to be the heir to the name of L, and yet you can't stay up for a measly day. And to think – you haven't even started work yet. How shameful of you, tut-tut."

"Shut up," the boy groaned, and nestled further into his chair.

"No. Not until you've killed the train driver."

…

"Say that again," said Mello, opening one eye.

"You've got to kill the driver of this train," said Mr. Birthday, snapping off another piece of chocolate and tossing it into his mouth. "It's nothing to worry about – it's all a part of my plan. What's best is the fact that it will work out for both of us: if you kill them, you'll be proving you're willing to cooperate with me, _and_ you'll also buy yourself some time to sleep."

"I'd like to wake up afterwards, you know. If I kill the driver, everybody on this train will die."

Mr. Birthday's eyes flashed. "Not if there's someone still driving the train."

"Like who?"

"Like me," he beamed. "This morning's mission is all about trust. You know those exercises where one person falls backwards, and the other person has to catch them? Well, it's like that, only… with higher stakes."

Mello massaged his temples, and sighed. "What if I don't kill him?"

"That really isn't an option I'm presenting you, but if you don't… then obviously you aren't of any use to me. I'll have to kill you, and find myself a new assistant."

They stared at one another for a long time.

"Fun, isn't it?" said Mr. Birthday. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"… How am I supposed to kill this guy again?"

"Ahh." Mr. Birthday took out his notebook, and dangled it playfully between his fingers. "That's a simple one."

--

**Author's Note:** _I'll admit, I'm loving this. Obviously not as much as B is, but… well, you know how it is._

_The quandary that Matt and Near are facing is a real problem I've reached. I have no idea whether to make them work on their own, or hook them up with L and Watari… so, if you know what they should do, please take part in the poll on my profile. Voting will only be open until 20th March (UK time...)__, so remember – have your say!_

… _Okay, so maybe it's not that serious a matter, but… I'd really appreciate it if you gave me your opinion. Frankly, I'm stumped._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and that you enjoy the next just as much!_


	16. Page Sixteen

_The votes are in. _

_They're also refreshingly conclusive._

_Well… sort of._

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note isn't mine. Surprised? Didn't think so._

**-**

**Page Sixteen: 26****th**** January, 2004**

_Death Note. How to use it._

Mr. Birthday had told him the secret of the notebook. The… the Death Note. Mello's grip upon the book only grew tighter as he began to walk calmly to the front of the train.

_The person whose name is written into this note shall die._

The train driver sat idly in his seat. A cup of coffee clutched in one hand, a dirty magazine held awkwardly in the other. He turned the magazine ninety degrees, the fold-out page flopped open. He whistled, and downed the last dregs of his beverage.

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

Mello knocked on the door. He heard the driver swearing under his breath, and the sound of what could only be an adult magazine being hidden quickly. Despite himself, and disregarding the situation he was in, Mello smiled a little.

"Come in," said the driver.

He opened the door, and stepped inside.

The driver didn't look happy.

"Hey! What're you doing, walking into a place like this? If you're a passenger, then just stay in your damn seat, right?"

Mello sneered. "You just told me I could come in."

"Like fuck I did. I thought you were staff, not some random kid. Just get out of here, I've got a job to do, okay?"

_If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen._

Mello shifted his arm, and repositioned the notebook in his hand. "Oh, well I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Osborn, but it's just that I'm…"

The driver gave him a hard look. "How'd you know my name, kid?"

"Your nametag," said Mello, nodding in the direction of the driver's chest. The badge plainly read 'Richard Osborn', and sported an ugly, blotchy photograph of the ugly, blotchy man. "Now, as I was saying, I'm doing a project at school about the safety of public transport, and I was wondering whether you'd be willing to talk about…"

"No, I'm not. Now get the hell out of here, kid. Don't interrupt the driver while he's driving, okay? You want to get us all killed?"

"Fine," said Mello, and closed the door.

The first page of his notebook now plainly read 'Richard Osborn'.

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

It was clumsy, and Mello didn't like it one bit. If the driver had been stupid enough to fall for his flimsy argument, he might have died a more noble death – or at least a convincing one. To think that the first death he caused would be a heart attack, without any real creativity behind it…

… He shouldn't have been disappointed about that, he knew – the fact that he was taking a human life should have been horror enough to scare any self-pride out of his system…

But he was tired, and Mr. Birthday wanted the train driver dead. The driver's death meant he could get some sleep. It was a bloody means to an end, but right now he could care less about details like that.

Behind the door, Richard Osborn's grip on his magazine loosened. A flimsy, plastic cup fell to the floor.

"Good little Mello," said Beyond, melting through the wall and examining the body. "Not exactly how I would have done it, but… that comes with experience."

-

Click.

Click. Click.

Matt lifted the receiver to his ear, and waited for the dialling tone to stop.

"_You have reached a restricted number,"_ said the emotionless female voice through the phone. "_You have reached a restricted number_."

Matt shrugged.

Near sighed. "Pass it here." He snatched the phone, and paused for a few moments. After a minute or so of silence, he calmly pressed three keys on the receiver, and raised it to his ear. "One. One. Two. Fourteen. Ninety-three. Nineteen. Red. Bravo," he said.

Another minute passed.

There was a loud beep.

A distorted voice melted through the static. "Hello Near," it said, "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Mr. Wammy," said Near. "We have a problem, and we need help."

"What sort of help?"

"Detective work."

The line went quiet. Eventually, Watari's voice returned with a little less confidence than usual. "Roger's death?"

"Actually, I assumed that Roger's death would be something to do with the Kira case. Instead, we need some information concerning a missing person."

"Ah," said Watari. "I did get a report from staff earlier this morning. I assume you have a little more information concerning Mello's whereabouts, then."

"In a manner of speaking," Near mumbled. "We have a few suspicions, at any rate."

"… Alright. L and I are a little busy at the moment –"

"I understand that."

"– but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," said Near, and promptly turned off the phone.

Simple.

-

It really was quite simple, thought Beyond, once you got your head around it. There was only two ways to move: forward and backward. You just kept the engine running, remembered where you needed to stop, and there was nothing else to it.

The train hurtled towards yet another station, and shot past just as fast. Another passenger was pounding on the door.

Yes… it was simple.

In a couple of hours, he would have to wake up Mello.

For now, he would let him sleep.

Beyond casually propped the late driver against the door, and revelled in the annoyance of his passengers.

He liked being in control. After all, he _did_ deserve it.

-

**Author's Note:** _Yes, outside assistance wins._

_And, in other news, B is making a train go very fast._

_How I wish I could write fanfics for a living… This is almost too fun…_

_Oh, and I really do apologise for the lateness of this post. The next one'll be up ASAP!_


	17. Page 5ev3nteen

_Gosh. I really HAVE left this one for a long time, haven't I?_

_Not as long as I left my other fanfic for (which was somewhere in the vicinity of two months), but…_

_Argh._

_Having coursework and other stuff like that really shouldn't make any difference._

… _Okay. So, here's the deal._

_You endure this one little joke chapter, and I'll have something substantial up in the next week or so, when I've reattached my 'fanfic' brain. Okay? Okay._

_DISCLAIMER: I'm not stealing anyone's stuff. Not really._

_-_

**Page Seventeen: An Excursion**

**The Bizarre and Implausible Life of a Sporadic Fanfic Writer**

I stared at the screen. The white glare seemed almost hypnotising if I looked at it long enough.

My fingers, poised just above the laptop's keyboard, remained stationary.

My mind was blank.

In desperation, I typed the words 'Page Seventeen'. A few moments later, I hit backspace.

Back to the white screen.

I furrowed my brow just a fraction deeper.

It was at this point that I found a familiar hand placed upon my shoulder. I looked up, and found myself staring at the dangerous smile of Beyond Birthday, a crazed Shinigami and popular star of Another Note, the Death Note spin-off novel.

Because, of course, I come into contact with fictional beings from popular manga series' all the time. Just last week I bumped into Naruto out buying a pint of milk.

For reals.

But I digress.

"Hello," said Beyond, or Mr. Birthday (as he preferred to be called). "Do you remember me? I happen to be in a fanfic you – ahem – _were_ writing about."

"Oh," I said, and promptly cringed. "Oh, yes. Yes, I remember you. Rather clearly. You were on a train."

"A train indeed," he said, still smiling. After serious deliberation, he added, "Choo choo."

There followed a painfully awkward silence.

"Do you realise that Mello and I have been on that train for over a month?" he said.

"Oh," I said, returning my gaze nervously to the screen. "Really?"

"Yes," said Mr. Birthday. "So far, we've managed to go around the British rail system no less than one hundred and fourteen times."

"Oh."

"Then I got bored with that, so we went for a picnic," he said.

"… Oh."

There was another pause.

Suddenly, I heard a click, and felt something cold and metal touch the back of my head.

It was a gun, which happened to be attached to a Mihael Keehl.

"Look," said Mello. "Just get the next chapter up, or I'm going to blow your brains out."

"Oh," I said.

"Oh indeed," said Mr. Birthday.


	18. Page Eighteen

_Now then. Where were we?_

_Ah, yes. On a train._

_After a completely unreasonable absence, B is back, Mello is back, and…_

… _someone else is back too._

_Choo choo indeed._

_DISCLAIMER: Seriously, you guys. How many times? This stuff isn't mine already!_

_-_

**Page Eighteen: 26****th**** January, 2004 (continued)**

Getting off a stationary train is, as most people who have been on public transport would well know, not a particularly difficult experience.

Getting off a moving train is a little more complicated.

Real problems begin to arise if the aforementioned train happens to be moving within the vicinity of 100 miles per hour through the British countryside. For most mortals, attempting this would result in something similar to death, if not the genuine article itself.

Of course, none of this bothered Beyond Birthday, as he had already made his leave of the mortal coil a fair few days ago. No, the problem here was…

How on _earth_ was he going to get out with a sleeping boy tucked underneath his arm, without anyone noticing, and without severely injuring his helper? As Beyond was completely invisible to all who hadn't touched the Death Note, the other passengers on the train would only see Mello, floating along and throwing himself out of the train door.

And whilst he didn't mind the media attention that the train-jacking would attract…

A floating boy flying out of a train would probably be going a little too far. He wanted to leave _something_ to L's imagination, after all. Giving him all the clues so early on in the game would be far too easy…

Now. How to do this…?

As he pondered, he reached his clawed hand out to snap off another piece of Mello's chocolate.

His fingers sliced through thin air.

"Hmm," he shrugged. Somehow, in all the excitement, he had eaten all of Mello's chocolate without even noticing.

…

Now _there_ was a good idea. If he just snapped Mello into little bits and carried him out that way, there would be a much smaller chance of anyone noticing! …the only problem there being that the end product would be a lot less tasty than chocolate, and a lot more dead than the plan required.

Pity.

Floating calmly through the crowds of screaming passengers, B slipped a few mints from an old woman's handbag to placate his hunger. Now, if only there was a way for him to…

B grinned, and pulled his Death Note from one of his seemingly limitless jean pockets.

There was always a way. All he had to do was write someone's name into the Death Note, and then everyone would…

Someone behind him coughed. "I hope you're planning to use your _own_ notebook if you're going to kill someone," the person said.

"Ah," B swivelled around in the air, coming face to shoulder with something huge and skeletal. "Toto, I didn't hear you arrive. So, what brings you to my party? Oh, wait – I don't think I sent you an invite, did I? How rude of me…"

"You know perfectly well why I'm here," said Rem, frowning. "You stole Gelus' notebook. Give it back, and I'll leave you to whatever you want to do. Just don't involve other people in your stupid plans next time, okay?"

He shook his head. "Oh, Toto. I didn't _involve_ you or Gelus in anything. Involving either of you would mean that I would have to actively utilise your services… I tried my hardest to avoid doing that, which is exactly why I took his Death Note without asking. _Asking_ him would be involving him even further, surely! Think about things _logically_, Toto."

Rem growled.

"Look. I would _happily_ give Gelus the notebook back. The only problem is, _he_ –" B pointed in the direction of the slumbering Mello, who was currently snoring softly to himself, "– has it."

"Kill him then," said Rem.

"Oh no, I couldn't do THAT! Killing the poor little soldier, after all the things he's been through? No, I couldn't possibly," said B. "I'm shocked to think you'd even suggest that, Toto. But… whilst we're on the subject of Death Notes and ownership…"

"… What?"

"I was merely wondering, Toto. You see, I've read the Shinigami rules, and… if you're down here, in the human world… the most likely reason for you being here is that you have purposefully dropped your Death Note in an attempt to pursue me. Am I correct?"

The Shinigami nodded, though somewhat reluctantly.

B nodded back. "I imagine you know where your Death Note was dropped, seeing as you planned this encounter."

Again, Rem nodded, this time in the direction of a small black notebook lying on the floor at the back of the train carriage.

"Oh. I see. And… No human has picked it up yet, then?"

"No," said Rem.

"Oh," B smirked, and quickly opened his own Death Note. He scrawled something into it, and slammed it shut. Rem's eyes grew a little wider.

"What did you just write?" she asked.

B said nothing, and just smiled vacantly up at her.

"What," she repeated, "did you write?"

After several seconds of silence, B drifted past Rem and grasped the sleeping Mello gently around the shoulder. "Well," he said, still smiling, "I must thank you for providing me with such an interesting solution to my problem. You can stay and watch the show if you want, but Mello and I have a very important engagement, and we simply can't be late."

It was at this point that one of the passengers noticed Rem's notebook, wandered over to it, and – after a few moments of careful deliberation – knelt down to pick it up.

"Out of interest, don't you find it convenient that all humans are deemed capable of committing suicide?" said B, shifting himself around Mello in preparation for picking the boy up.

The passenger stood up, still looking at the notebook in curiosity, and gradually raised his eye level upwards.

And suddenly, in the middle of the carriage, there was…

A monster.

He began to scream.

The whole carriage turned to face him as his entire set of psychological assets dissolved into pure, unbridled terror.

With the aid of the distraction, B quickly pulled Mello onto his back and pulled the train door open.

The passenger watched in horror as, behind the white monster, a young man _floated out of the door_.

Rem was caught between amazement and rage. Why did B have to be so sneaky? Why did his plans always have to _work_ like this?

Quickly, Beyond Birthday leapt off the train.

According to the passenger, a boy committed suicide. And…

There was a monster.

He couldn't take it.

The Death Note still firmly in his grasp, the passenger hurled himself frantically at a nearby window.

There was a smash. Death Note and passenger plummeted out of the train.

B smiled, watching the speeding train, the flailing body, and the tattered pages of Rem's Death Note fly past.

_Now_, he thought, _to business_.

-

**Author's Note:** _Woo-hoo! Yes, B is back!_

… _As you may have guessed by now, I'm rather happy with this chapter, even though it could be argued that it draws heavily from 'that bit on the bus' from Death Note itself, but…_

_This is fanfiction. You get what you pay for._

_More Near, Matt, L and perhaps even an inclusion of Light in the next chapter. I just REALLY wanted to write this chapter, because it's hilari-awesome._

_And yes, I DID just say that. XD_


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_DISCLAIMER: Death Note isn't mine. This story is though, so don't nick my ideas. Please._

**Page Nineteen: 26****th**** January, 2004 (continued)**

From out of the corner of his eye, L glanced at the report.

A hijacked train. Two reported fatalities, though only one body had been found so far. When the train had eventually been halted – and it had taken quite a while, by the look of things – they had found the controls unmanned, and the door to the control panel barricaded from the inside. One open carriage door, one broken window.

It hadn't surprised him to learn that, not long before the hijacking, the train had stopped at a station in Southampton – not far from Winchester, and consequently not far from Wammy's house.

It was only logical to assume that Mello was tied into this somehow…

But how?

"Please inform Near," L mumbled to Watari, handing the report back to him. "I'm sure this will be of interest to his investigations, and it would be beneficial to him if he received this before the event gets released to the public."

Watari nodded, and left the room.

L chewed his thumb.

Considering Roger's death, and the reported fatalities sustained upon the train, it could be possible that Kira would have something to do with it… but that would imply that Kira knew about Wammy's, and in turn…

…

On the other hand, it was also possible to assume that _Mello_ had caused the deaths and hijacked the train, but that still left several questions unanswered: why would Mello have done it? Was it because he was trying to… help in the Kira investigation? And even if he was, how could he have barricaded the control panel from the inside whilst not being in there? It wasn't _impossible_, of course – there had been many cases where criminals had used locked doors to…

…

In the back of L's mind, a hunched figure appeared. The LABB murder case had been one example of a locked door scenario, and as B was more than well aware of the existence of Wammy's House…

… but B was dead. Of course, given that it was B, there was every chance that he had somehow faked his own death, however unlikely that scenario might be…

... No.

No. Even if he HAD faked his own death, Roger had died of a heart attack. B had been a very talented young man, but killing someone by heart attack was certainly beyond his abilities.

Unless, of course, B happened to be Kira.

…

Slowly, carefully, L picked up a sugar lump and plopped it into his tea.

If B was Kira…

--

"… Thank you, Mr. Wammy," said Near, promptly putting the phone down and balancing another domino on the ridiculously tall pile sitting in front of him.

Matt watched him expectantly. "Well?"

"… Nothing much. Apparently a train has been hijacked," he placed another domino, "and there's a high chance that Mello was on it."

"What?!"

"I would have preferred something a little more substantial to work from, to be honest," Near continued, completely ignoring Matt's distress. "And what's worse is that I have no way of physically confirming this, as the train has been stopped somewhere in the vicinity of [somewhere far away]." He paused for a few moments, and gave a rare glance upwards at his companion. "Of course, I don't suppose that you'd be up for a short trip."

"… [Somewhere] is about seventy miles away. You can't expect me to travel seventy miles on my own!!"

Near frowned a little.

"… You can't be serious!"

Near said nothing.

Matt shook his head. A single drop of sweat dribbled down his forehead.

"Take a mobile phone, and enough money to last comfortably during the trip," said Near, turning back to his dominos. "I'll keep you posted if anything comes up."

"… You're really quite horrible sometimes, you know that?"

"I'm practical," said Near, a small, horrid smile appearing on his lips. "Believe me, there's a difference."

--

Light Yagami watched a bird fly past the window.

Things were… quiet.

It was only a hunch, but… it felt…

L wasn't trying as hard as before.

He twirled a pen neatly between his fingers.

Now – was this some sort of trap? Lulling Kira into a false sense of security, waiting for him to let his guard down, or…

He glanced over at the television, and wrote down a few more names. Just in case, of course.

… Was it possible that L was… slipping somehow?

Something had changed. Things were _too_ quiet.

He smirked as the news reporter mentioned 'heart attacks', and a familiar name flashed onto the screen.

Something was different. He could smell it.

A few days ago, Kira had dealt with Naomi Misora. Was it possible that…?

Perhaps L had found her. As improbable as that was, given what he had written in the notebook.

Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? If L _had_ found her, would he be able to trace it back to Kira – or back to Light Yagami?

This wasn't like L. He would have made his move by now, surely. Things wouldn't feel quite as strange as this…

A voice, behind him.

Light picked up the apple from his desk, and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.

He wrote down a few more names.

Whatever the matter was, Light could _feel_ weakness in the situation.

L was vulnerable.

He smiled to himself.

Behind him, an apple stalk disappeared into thin air with a crunch.

"Hyuk hyuk…"

--

In another place, a very miserable creature was opening a door.

She turned the handle, quite simply, and stepped into the dark room – the dark _place_ beyond.

Before her, a thousand eyes, tentacles and claws extended across the infinity of the blackness. In amongst the knotted, writhing mess, she could – somehow – recognise an… an expression.

The Old Man wrinkled his nose, or at least wrinkled a part of him that may have been a nose at some point in time.

"AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, MINION?" the Old Man boomed. "WHAT'S SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU JUST _HAVE_ TO INTERRUPT YOUR KING IN THE MIDDLE OF A NAP? I MEAN, SERIOUSLY, SOME PEOPLE SHOULD JUST HAVE SOME DAMN _RESPECT_, OKAY? CAN'T I GET SOME TIME TO MYSELF – JUST THIS ONCE? I MEAN, COME _ON_…"

"First of all," said Rem, "you don't need to sleep. Second of all, I need another Death Note."

"LOOK. IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY – AND I'VE GOT A BLOODY GOOD MEMORY – YOU CAME IN HERE NOT ALL THAT LONG AGO, ASKING FOR A REPLACEMENT DEATH NOTE FOR YOUR LITTLE LUMPY FRIEND BECAUSE HE GOT IT STOLEN. FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME, LADY, I DO _NOT_ HAND OUT REPLACEMENTS FOR NO GOOD REASON. IF HE LOST IT, THEN HE SHOULD JUST GO AND FIND IT, OKAY?"

Rem shook her head.

"WHAT THEN?" said the Old Man.

"I need a notebook. Mine's broken."

The Old Man sneered. "OH – THAT. YES, I ALREADY KNEW ABOUT THAT. WELL… WELL, OKAY, I KNEW THAT _A_ DEATH NOTE WAS DESTROYED – I FELT IT – BUT… ANYWAY. YOU NEED ANOTHER ONE, THEN."

"Yes," she said.

"CAN I JUST ASK HOW YOU BROKE THE FIRST ONE?"

"It got thrown off a train."

The Old Man narrowed several of his eyes at her. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING THROWING IT OFF A TRAIN? WERE YOU _TRYING_ TO RUIN IT OR SOMETHING? IT'S NOT LIKE I ASKED YOU TO DO A FUCKING CRASH TEST WITH ONE, DID I? OR MAYBE I'M NOT THE ONE IN CHARGE AROUND HERE ANY MORE. MAYBE THIS IS JUST ONE OF THOSE 'TEENAGE REBELLION' THINGS, TRYING TO OVERTHROW MY AUTHORITY – I MEAN, IS IT REALLY _THAT_ BAD WITH ME IN CHARGE?"

Rem did not bother to grace that with an answer. "Notebook," she muttered.

A tentacle squirmed from amongst the writhing throng and dropped a small, black book into her hand.

"DON'T CHUCK THIS ONE OUT THE DAMN WINDOW THIS TIME, OKAY?"

Rem left the room, and closed the door.

"BITCH," the Old Man sniffed.

--

**Author's Note:**_ A 'reaction' chapter, which I am wont to do. Every once in a while, I feel the need to write randomness and pass it off as a chapter… Here is the result. XD_

_Essentially, all I want to do here is set up the next scenario. I also wanted to reflect on how much B's actions are screwing everyone over, simply because… okay, this sounds a bit mean, but I just think it's kind of funny._

_Actually, that sounds a lot mean._

_Anyway – more B and Mello next chapter, and probably a bit more Matt, seeing as he's going to be going on a bit of an adventure…_

_What a jolly time to be had by all._


End file.
